Dayenu
by aRegularJo
Summary: "Tony, I've made you chase me across the world twice already. I never made it easy for you. I had no doubt you would do so again and I knew you would find me but I … I did not want to make you do so a third time unless I absolutely had to." Ziva's alive, and in the conference room. AU from like minute five of the season finale
1. if she were alive

So ... It's been a while. Hi, NCIS! ( _Waves_ ). Adding onto the bajillion interpretations of the "Ziva is actually alive" trope. Full disclosure: I haven't seen the show (until this season's finale) since 11x02, so some things may be totally out of character.

Title comes from the Passover seder. "Dayenu" is a prayer of thanksgiving sung after you recite the plagues in the haggadah. It loosely translates to "that would have been enough" and you say it after someone sings a blessing from God: "If He had brought us out of Egypt — _dayenu."_ "If He had executed justice upon the Egyptians — _dayenu."_ It's a prayer of gratefulness, indicating that one's life is overflowing with meaning and with blessings, because just _one_ of those things would have been enough. I think should basically tell you the gist of this story:)

Let me know what you think! I've got a couple of chapters written, and basically know where this should end up. It's not my most well-written piece ever but I think it's been pretty fun so far. Hope you think so as well!

* * *

i.) if she were alive

 _Ziva is dead_.

He chanted the words over and over like a religious mantra, willing himself to believe them. Despite the fact that she had nearly died so many times — despite the fact that she did not think she would live to be thirty, let alone thirty-three — he had always assumed he would go first. That age and bad diet and actuarial statistics applied to them.

He had forgotten that no statistics have ever applied to him or to Ziva, let alone to him-and-Ziva.

He remembered his promise to her years ago in Saleem's camp, his words open and bare and honest: _Couldn't live without you, I guess_.

Now, he would have to try.

The night had been long, sleepless, tear-filled. From the inside out, Tony felt raw. He'd been staring at a blank space above the coffee machine, willing it to brew itself, when his phone rang. "DiNozzo!" Gibbs said, his voice low and gravelly. "The director needs you to come in."

"Gibbs I'm really —"

"Not a request."

"Gibbs, really, I think under the circumstances the director can shove —" But the bossman was already gone. Sighing, he ran a hand down the stubble on his jaw, scratched the nape of his neck, jammed the _on_ button on the coffee machine as he went to shower and shave.

He'd added enough ground beans for a pot and figured he'd need all of it.

Stumbling through the bullpen, the fluorescent assaulting every sense, he said a few words to McGee and Bishop. Headed up the stairs. He'd be back soon, ready to help (or at least feel needed).

The director's assistant, Kimberly, was crying, dabbing tears away from the corners of her eyes, when she signaled him to go in. He pushed the door open.

And then he saw her.

She was there. Alive. In the flesh. Her jeans and tunic top was loose, but probably expensive; Ziva had always had quietly highbrow tastes when not in the field. She was tanned and looked like she had generally (with the exception of today) been leading a lower-stress, higher-sleep lifestyle. Lines he thought had permanently etched themselves onto her face had been removed, as if with an eraser; she looked younger than she had looked since the earliest days of knowing her (she was _twenty-two_ when they first met, which had always seemed extraordinary to him). Her makeup was minimal, the only jewelry she wore were tiny gold studs (he should give her the necklace tucked in his breast pocket like a talisman). Curls swung over her shoulders just the way he liked them, though they were tucked under a stupid-looking fedora.

And, oh yeah, she was holding a freaking _toddler_.

He put two and two together, and got four.

(He'd always been a damn good investigator.)

"Ziva," he exhaled, almost unable to say or do anything else. So he settled on asking the easy question: "Since when did you start wearing hats?"

She looked taken aback for a second, then smiled. He knew in that second everything would turn out fine: The ice had been broken, that she realized he could never _actually_ be mad at her over what was going to transpire (though he knew they both knew there would be plenty of yelling over the next forty-eight hours). "There is a lot of sun in Israel," she said, her voice falling back into the clipped, half-annoyed cadence she used when he was distracting her at a crime scene. She raised her eyebrows, tucked her chin in a flirty challenge, hid a smile. It was three years ago again, and the two of them were just exasperating Gibbs and the director, and nothing had changed. "I acquired a hat." Stupidly, he realized it was probably also for blocking her face from security cameras in airports or traffic stops.

"And a kid," he nodded at the child, who was pretty freaking adorable. Gibbs had taught him not to believe in coincidences.

"And a child," she confirmed. "Tali." She turned to the director and Gibbs, both of whom had impassive, but stunned, expressions on their faces. "Can Tony and I speak alone, please? There are many questions to answer."

They shifted, looking at each other. "Alright. He's not the only one with questions," Vance warned.

"I know," Ziva said. "I understand that; believe me, I do. But Tony is owed the story first, yes?"

He nodded, a sharp, short, single jerk of his neck. "You can use the conference room."

"Thank you," Ziva said, and tipped her head tremulously in the direction of the door. "Shall we?"

" _Ima,_ _lemata_ ," the child — Tali — commanded, and Ziva reluctantly let her slide down her body to the ground. Her eyes were bright and mischievous; he could already imagine her giving them — Ziva — a run for her (their) money.

" _Iti, tatelah_ ," Ziva cautioned. Then, likely for Tony's benefit — "Slow down, Tali."

"Ziver," Gibbs said, before she could get too far. Ziva turned, and Gibbs kissed her temple. "It's good to see you again."

"Thank you, Gibbs," she said, resting her head briefly on his shoulder to gather strength. "Next time, I will call first."

Since her mom had been detained by Gibbs, Tali ran up to Tony. " _Ani Tali_ ," she introduced herself, palming her chest proudly.

He squatted next to her and held out a finger. "I barely speak Hebrew, kiddo," he said. "I can tell your mom she's not alone, and that's about it. Your name is Tali, huh?"

"Natalia. Inspired by her aunt, whom she will never meet, but a little more … Italian," Ziva said, suddenly very close to him.

"You haven't lost the damn ninja senses, huh?" he asked, as he straightened. She tilted her head down to Tali with a firm shake _no_. "Seriously? If she doesn't speak English how the hell is she —"

"DiNozzo, go talk," Gibbs interrupted. "Ziva, do you want me to take Tali?" He drawled the name, _Tolly_ , not the sharp crack of _Tah-li_ Ziva always used that Tony had always tried to emulate. The syllables had always tripped over his tongue, a reminder of the cultural gulfs separating the two of them.

"That's alright," she replied. "She is in, ah, how do you say it? Stringy phase."

"Clingy phase," DiNozzo corrected. He'd missed this. She'd probably regressed. This would be fun.

If she stuck around, of course.

(She had to stick around, right?)

"Thank you. And she is learning English too, aren't you _tatelah_? What's _Kalev_ called in English?"

"Doggy," Tali shrieked, her voice much too loud. Tony smiled in spite of himself. She looked so thrilled at getting the word.

"The conference room, yes?" Ziva said, holding open the door.

Tali trotted out at a fast clip and he grabbed her instinctively before she went too far, with a "Easy lion!" as he caught her arm. To keep from startling her, he swung her up further, without thinking, onto his own hip. Something scary immediately turned into something fun, and she clapped at his nose. He laughed, and she laughed at having made him laugh.

"I thought it was easy _tiger_ ," Ziva said, eyes pursed into a smirk, as she opened the door. The squint disappeared as she made a funny face at Tali, passing by in Tony's arms.

"You remember that, but you say 'stringy phase'?" he rebutted, setting her down in a chair and pulling her shirt (dress? She had shorts under the top but it was long) down.

As he got her settled, Ziva pulled a coloring book and some crayons out of her bag — they still operated smoothly, as a team — and plunked them in front of Tali. "She will be out soon, I think. It is late in Israel, and she has not napped yet," Ziva mused, sifting her fingers through Tali's curls. She put the stupid hat down next to Tali, and the kid snapped it up and put it on her own head. "She has had quite the journey."

It took a few minutes for the coloring to distract Tali — she had to hold up each crayon and name the colors in Hebrew, and Ziva responded with the English words — but once he was convinced that the kid was immersed in her crayons and wouldn't have any lasting Mommy and Daddy Are Fighting scars, he turned back to Ziva. "So. Been busy these last couple years." She looked down, and sighed. "And, you know — you didn't _go_ radio silent. Abby would've killed you if you did. Gibbs would've sent troops after you if you didn't check in monthly. We Skyped a few times. Hell, I remember a few birthday cards. So … you just kind of forgot to mention this? Kind of a big deal, Ziva."

"I know. I —"

"And then yesterday? The _hell,_ Ziva? I thought you were _dead_."

She hesitated, then dove in. Her faked death was an easier starting point than the two-year-old child, apparently (he didn't blame her; he agreed). "Tony — of everything that has happened, please believe me when I say I have _no idea_ how that message was communicated to you. I am so, so sorry. Orli and Mossad, not knowing who was behind the attacks or for what reason, purposefully put out that misinformation for my protection. But they should have sent a different official word to NCIS. When the house was attacked —" she paused, then went back a bit in her retelling, "— It does not sound, from Vance, like I was necessarily the target. And there were only a few people within Mossad who knew where to find me. And you, of course." She licked her lips. "But I knew you, of course, had nothing to do with it. Mossad — there is a lot of water below the bridge with Orli now, so I did not think it was her — but the rest of the agency? I was not sure. Word could have slipped out that way. But you. I knew you had nothing to do with it … So I came here. It was my first thought, and I knew we would be safe." She paused. "I was able to contact Orli, who had her private plane ready within the hour. I had a pair of new identities at hand, just in case. You know, responsible parenting," she smirked. "Always have a clean backup identity for your baby."

He smirked too, almost involuntarily. "If you didn't know who was behind the attack, why did you call Orli? Why didn't you lie low?"

She nodded. "I could have done that, yes. I should have, actually. My first thought was to send Tali to you, with a few clues, that would lead you to Paris, and meet you there. Tali needed to leave, and certainly going overland to Europe would be safer for me. But the difference was small, if we were able to use Orli's private plane and leave immediately. I know I should have done it because it _was_ safer, but I didn't want to leave Tali — it seemed cruel. I suppose that was selfish, though. And finally —" she paused, biting her lip. "Tony, I've made you chase me across the world twice already. I never made it easy for you. I had no doubt you would do so again and I knew you would find me but I … I did not want to make you do so a third time unless I _absolutely_ had to." Her face was earnest, raw, open. It was a good look on her. Her eyes flicked down to Tali again. "It seemed … selfish. And I have clearly been that far too frequently with you."

He nodded, processing. At some point he wanted to hear about the water "below the bridge" with Orli — that sounded way too interesting to pass up — but now was not the time. "Ziva David," he said thickly. "It is _never_ selfish to call me. You don't 'make' me do anything. I wanted to find you; I wanted to find Saleem. Hell, _I_ needed to do both those things." He licked his lips. "That's what … That's what partners _are_." He had almost said _that's what love is_ , but while pretending there were any other feeling felt silly, it also felt like a step too far.

She straightened. "It is good to see you, Tony. I missed you." She chuckled at her words. "That seems hardly sufficient, and it is unfair, but it is my prevailing emotion. You were a limb, Tony. I felt like I had lost a limb, because I chopped it off. And I missed you."

"You could have called," he looked at Tali. "You _should have_ called."

"I know. In trying to atone for my sins, I committed a very big one."

"So she's …"

"Yes. Of course," she said quickly. "Her birthday is July 4th, right before yours. The American Independence Day, which seemed fitting. So she is two in two months. We were not always the best at remaining … exclusive to one another over the years, but … you were there, Tony, in Israel, in the house, in the orchard. You should _know_ there was nobody else."

He nodded. He had known, the second he saw the child, that she was half him, half Ziva. "I know."

Her entire body visibly exhaled, the tense wire running through her spine snapping. "Thank you."

They stood in silence for a few moments. "But that begs the question, _Ziva_ —" and she tensed up again, her face pale and scared, preparing for a long-overdue (and much-deserved) fight. Before he could finish (or really begin), three knocks cracked against the door, which flew open to reveal Abby, McGee, Bishop, and Palmer.

"Is it true? It's true! Oh my god, Ziva, we thought you were _dead_ ," Abby squealed as she rushed into the room to crush Ziva into a hug. Tony realized that he had not yet touched her since she re-entered her life twenty minutes ago. The other three, however, had noticed what Abby had not, and waited, slack-jawed, behind them. "And — oh my god. Gibbs didn't mention _this_. Is she —"

Ziva looked at Tony, indicating that he should say something. He raised an eyebrow to say _this one's all yours, Sweetcheeks_ , but she raised an eyebrow higher, saying _I know you want a role and I'm giving this to you because I want you to have a place, too_ , and he lost that battle. "This is Tali," he said, clearing his throat, finally getting the delicate pronunciation of the name right. Finally fitting together with Ziva. "Our daughter." At her name, Tali peeked up from her coloring and held up a crayon to Ziva, who took it with a cluck.

"What the hell?" That was McGee.

"Nobody said you two dated!" (Ellie, obviously.)

"You two had _sex_?" Palmer yelped.

"How did this happen?" (Abby.)

"Well, Abby, Jimmy there answered your question," he cracked, because that was easiest, and Ziva poked his side in disapproval.

But then she inhaled, deeply, and provided one of the clearest and most direct answers to a question that he had ever heard from her: "When Tony found me in Israel, we had a … very fond farewell. Tali is the product of that."

The four stared at them numbly for several seconds, and Tony stared back at them, arms crossed, daring them to say something. Ziva, a hand on a hip and an eyebrow cocked, did the same. It was nice, to be back on her team, to be her partner in something. Even if it was explaining the only-in-soap-operas appearance of a presumed-dead woman and their love child.

Tali played obliviously between them.

Palmer finally took the bait. "Well, if anyone was going to, you know, have this happen the first time they, you know — and as they thought they were saying goodbye for forever — it's very modern-day _Casablanca_ , in a way."

Well, that was an awkward assumption. "Actually it wasn't the first —" he started, feeling like the jig was probably up, as Ziva said, "It wasn't goodbye forever." Then she stopped. "Oh, we're telling them the _whole_ story now?"

"You two had sex _before_ … this?" McGee blurted out.

Ziva gasped, mostly faux-annoyed, and made a move to cover Tali's ears. "There's a child in the room, McProbie," Tony said, using the old nickname for Tim's discomfort. He looked at Ziva, who gave an eyeroll and a nod. "We had a connection, let's just say. You _all_ knew that."

"I didn't," Bishop piped up. "Not at the time, anyways; I was actually in college for a lot of that. But if you always did this in sync thing, I'm not surprised."

"They did," Palmer assured her. "You've heard the Somalia story, right?"

"Kind of romantic, in a twisted way," Ziva volunteered, mostly (he knew) for deflection.

"My type of grand gesture," he added, for the same.

Tim wasn't letting them off the hook that easily. "So if you had a connection - which I had to witness for eight years, so, you know, I get answers - when did you first _connect_?"

Well this was awkward. He looked up. Ziva looked at Tali. He looked back at Tim and Abby, who were half-pissed, half-curious. "The night Gibbs went to Mexico," he finally volunteered.

"Remember, we all went out?" Ziva said. "You all went home."

"You guys went to get _falafel_ ," Abby said accusingly.

"And then we went to Ziva's."

"That was two thousand and _six_ ," Abby said, still scandalized. "That was _ten_ years ago."

"How frequently did you _connect_?" Tim asked.

"Well, there was a lot of connecting that summer -"

"-But then there was Jeanne, so not for a while -"

"-Really not until after Jenny died -"

"-Paris -"

"-You know, I kind of thought we were going for it, after that?"

She smiled sadly at him. "That probably would have been the smarter thing to do, yes. Certainly easier."

His heart skipped a beat, then he turned back to the line. "Anyways, you get the picture. After Ray and EJ. After Eli died. Berlin."

"And then Israel, of course," Ziva said, touching Tali's curls.

He was pretty sure his coworkers' eyebrows would never return to their original position. "So you two were _connecting_ , off and on, for eight years, and Gibbs never caught on?" McGee clarified.

"Rule 12," Tony shrugged.

Ziva disagreed. "Well, no, we never … We did not use labels or names or anything like that. And we did try and keep it removed from the office, for technicality's sake." _Never date a coworker_. "But it's Gibbs. I am almost positive he simply … turned a deaf ear."

"Blind eye," he corrected. She really had regressed. "Are you in charge of teaching Tali English? Because I would like my kid to grow up actually _knowing_ how to speak the language."

"So you're back, right?" Abby asked, her voice insistent. "You're back for good? I don't care if you don't come back to work — I mean, of course I would _prefer_ that, but you have Tali now, I get that — but you're back in the States, right?"

Uncertainty flashed across her face. "I am here, now, Abby," she reassured softly. "Otherwise, there is much to work out."

Sensing that the two former partners had plenty to work out, McGee touched Abby's elbow. "We should go. We still have to catch Kort."

"Actually, I should go, as well," Ziva said. "Tali needs to take a nap."

"No nap!" Tali said.

"Oh, great, she's stubborn too. Definitely your kid, Tony," Bishop said.

"Because _Ziva_ is the definition of easygoing," he replied, eyebrow raised, and Ziva had the grace to blush. He turned to her, digging in his pockets for his keys as he did so. Brandishing them, he said, "Here. You should go to my place."

"You are staying here?" she checked, stepping close to him and his looping a pinky through the ring.

"You should go, Tony," Gibbs said, appearing in the doorway.

"No. We need to catch —"

"We've got this. You two … have some talking to do." He looked at Tali. "Have her take a nap, talk, yell, work it out. I'll see you both back in four hours."

"Because _that's_ enough time to settle everything," he muttered.

"Tony," she said, putting an arm on his bicep gently. Touching him finally. "Let's go. Thank you Gibbs."

Quietly, and with as much dignity as he could muster, he followed her out of the room.


	2. if she wanted a them

Hey there! Back for chapter 2! Thanks for all the positive response to the first. I'll note that this is (from what I can tell) slightly noncompliant with the timeline of the episode, but hey, it's AU :)

Let me know what you think! Kinda fun to be writing these two again.

* * *

ii.) if she wanted a them

After saying hello to Ducky ("my dear girl, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again") and reassuring Abby for the sixth time that, yes, Ziva and Tali were absolutely coming back, he gathered all of Tali's things — babies came with lots of things — and carried those as she carried Tali outside. "How did you get here?"

"Uber," she said. "From the airfield."

"You still drive like a schizophrenic escaping the asylum?"

Her eyes flicked down. "Not with Tali in the car."

He followed Ziva's instructions for installing the carseat, futzting at her bossiness only a little, and then they wrestled a noncompliant Tali into the seat. They stepped back from the Charger's door at the same time, suddenly very close, and she took a step back, very aware of their proximity.

"Wait," he said, tugging her back and wrapping his arms around her. He hadn't held her yet, and he needed to. She sank into the hug and they stood there for an eternity. "I really am glad you're alive," he said hoarsely. " _Really_. I meant it when I said I couldn't live without you."

"I know. And I am really glad I am here," she replied, placing a tiny kiss at his neck and burrowing her head in his chest, inhaling deeply for a second. They finally pulled apart when Tali's squawking brought them back to reality. He noticed three damp spots on his shirt from her tears.

As they started driving off base, Tali babbling at her doggy in the back, he said, "So. Tell me about her."

Ziva looked at him, surprised. "About Tali?"

"Yeah. You've got twenty-two months to catch me up on. Go."

She nodded. "I brought photos. Lots of them. And video. Anyways," she sighed. "She is happy, generally. She was an easy baby, very happy, slept early. She gets into trouble easily — escaping her crib, tiny bits of naughtiness — but that is to be expected, no? She is always climbing over gates and getting into the baby powder and into the pasta sauce and things. She loves animals, especially elephants and butterflies. And dogs. After ima and abba, kalev was her next word."

"Abba?"

"Papa, of course."

"She … learned that word?"

"Yes. Every night, after her story, I would show her your photo, and tell her a story of us. She is so little, I could give her the … whole story, you know? We are not telling her the story of the Sophie and Jean-Paul when she is seven, for crying out loud."

His chest tightened at the _we_. "So you told her … about me?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "Tony, I made a lot of mistakes, I know, and I know you're angry … But it was never my intention to keep you in the dark indefinitely. I just … I did not want to interrupt your life, to help me put mine back together. I wanted you to move on too."

"I would have come in a — "

"Heartbeat. I know. That is why I didn't ask," she held up a hand. "We've been living off my inheritance for a long time, but it was never going to last forever. I've acquired a job through a contact at the United Nations, in Paris, that begins in July. I'll be working to help women, specifically those who have been abused, resettle and begin new lives across Europe. I was going to move there, get us settled, then contact you. Tali would have been two; I would be … more whole; Paris is ...neutral ground, as you say. And it has good memories. I was going to call you then," she said fervently, and he believed her. "I did not want her to grow up and remember a time without knowing you and knowing that you loved her. I promise." Not knowing how to respond, he looked ahead and nodded tightly.

They were quiet until they pulled into his parking spot, and he realized something. "Shit."

"What? Also, I know that was mostly for McGee's benefit, but I really would not like her to learn how to swear. She has an unfortunate habit of picking up exactly what you don't want her to."

"I could have guessed that. I'm sorry. It's just … Senior's here."

"Here?"

"Yeah. He also, um, you know …"

"Thinks I am dead?"

"Yup."

"Well that one spread quickly," she sighed. "I will have to talk to Orli." She unbuckled. "Come on. Look, she is already asleep. Hopefully she will stay that way."

He leaned backwards to get a look at her, listed against the side of her car seat and oblivious to the world. "How do we extract her?"

"Gently. She is a small sleeper, and a grenade if she wakes up."

"Light. Light sleeper. You know, you _lived here_ for eight years." He wondered, fleetingly, if she was doing this on purpose; giving them something to bicker about as a distraction.

"I have been only speaking and thinking in Hebrew for nearly three. It is a long time."

"Don't I know it," he sighed. "OK, what if I undo the straps? She'll fall forward, then you catch her. We don't have to move her, just take advantage of gravity."

"Done. Can you handle the bag?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can handle a bag."

"She has a lot of things. It is heavy." By this time, they were outside the car door; Ziva put a finger over her lips and opened the door quietly. He slipped his hands in and carefully unbuckled the straps. One retracted easily while the other got caught in front of her shoulder. He carefully wound it around her and inched her forward; once it was gone Tali tipped, and Ziva caught her and slid her out. "I have to say — that is easier with two parents," Ziva said.

"Yeah, well, only one of us _knew_ ," he said before he could stop himself.

"Tony — yes, I know. I am sorry. That was an olive branch."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said, grabbing the bag.

Ziva, Tali flopped over her shoulder, paused on the steps. "So … Senior. You two have reached a detente?"

"You could say that," he sighed. "He's … contrite. I'm … being open."

"That is good. You never know, with fathers, when you are out of time. Even if it is hard."

"You can say that again." He pushed the door open to the building before he noticed her stricken face. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm mad; I'm not trying to punish you. That was about Eli and Senior. Here. The elevator." He used the bag and the stroller and the other bag to hold it open for them. "Don't be surprised if he's emotional," he warned her. "He's always loved you."

She chuckled. "As long as he doesn't wake Tali we'll be good. I should make him lasagna tonight though, for giving him a scare."

"You've been exposing her to the Italian side of her food heritage, right?"

"Friday nights are pizza nights," she assured him solemnly as he pushed open the door to his apartment.

"Israeli pizza has nothing on American," he reminded her. "And you should probably take a step back if you don't want her to wake up."

Senior was pacing the living room: "Son, I just got the most absurd phone call from Ms. Sciuto —"

"Yeah. Did she tell you that Ziva is actually alive and showed up this morning at NCIS with our daughter in tow?" He asked.

Senior stopped dead in his tracks. "Yes. Exactly that."

Ziva popped out from behind him, Tali cradled in her arms. "Good morning, Senior. It is good to see you again. I am sorry for all of the fuss."

"Ziva," he cried, moving quickly forward. "Oh thank god. Oh, sweetheart." He enveloped both her and Tali in a crushing hug, and Tony felt, again, that his muted response had been somewhat lacking.

"It is wonderful to see you. But please — do not wake Tali."

He stepped back. "This is my granddaughter." It was not a question.

"Yes," she said. "Natalia Rivka Elisheva David, after my sister and her grandmothers." She cast her eyes sideways at Tony and explained, hesitantly, "I did try to put your last name on the birth certificate, but could not, especially since I was living largely off the grid and without proper documentation. I would very much like to change that."

He nodded, head fuzzy. "Let's, uh, add it to the list. To discuss."

She bit her lip, then nodded. "I should put her down. Is your room ok?"

"Uh, yeah. Still, uh, in the same place."

She nodded and headed back. Senior seized his arm. "Junior, this is amazing! Are you two … You know, together? I've always loved her like a daughter."

He laughed nervously. "Uh, Dad, you're like right steps ahead of _anyone_ , right now. And we've got three years and a kid to talk about before Gibbs wants us back in," he checked his watch, "three hours and thirty-six minutes to catch the guy who firebombed his house, so if you could …"

"Got it," Senior replied with a pronounced wink. "I'm going to the toy store. What should I get?"

He sighed heavily, feeling the nerves in his forehead pinch. "She likes animals. That's all I got so far."

"I can work with that," Senior said, and he was out the door in a flash.

He didn't want to feel useless and unnecessary while watching Ziva's undoubtedly-well-practiced nap time routine, so he put on a tea kettle and shuffled and reshuffled a stack of magazines in the too-clean kitchen. Yup, totally unnecessary out here, too.

She came out a few minutes later. "She is asleep," she announced. "Given the time changes, I imagine she will still be napping when Gibbs wants us back. Maybe Senior can watch her? Would he be OK with that idea?"

"He just went to the toy store to drop a mortgage payment on toys, so yeah, I think he'd be interested," he said wryly. "Tea?"

She nodded, surprised. "Yes please," she replied, then paused. "You drink tea now?"

He shrugged. He'd picked it up after he'd come home alone. "It's an acquired taste."

She looked at the tins on his counter. "I see you acquired a taste for all my favorites."

"Well, you're an acquired taste too. Package deal." He poured a cup, then nodded at the island.

She took it and sat down. "Okay. Get it out. You should be mad at me and you're taking this far too calmly. Yell. Let me have it."

"I can't yell, because I don't know where to start. With you just … the last two years of her life, and everything that I have missed? I think that would be a _great_ starting point. Or we could start with you parachuting in and telling me that you wanted to give her my last name, but you _didn't_ want to tell me about her? I mean, God, Ziva, there is actually a point where your insistence on independence is just _actually_ selfishness and inflexibility. Or how about: What the hell do you actually want here, Ziva? What's next?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured. "I deserved this."

"Oh, _this_ is a great starting point too: Your freaking martyr complex! Without which none of us would be in this situation, because you _never would have left_!"

She nodded as she considered, then raised a hand. "Also true. May I begin?"

"Be my guest."

"When you left — when I all but _forced_ you to leave — I had a very clear goal. I wanted to start fresh. Figure out who I was without expectations of being a good soldier, and without being content to let the greater good take precedence over my desires and sense of self. My god, Tony, we were standing on the precipice of … something big, and I barely knew what my favorite _food_ was. I was beyond romantically dysfunctional; I couldn't function without applying a battle-zone mentality to the simplest of exchanges. I was angry, I was upset, I was … Full of hate. There was no way I could … commit, meaningfully, without actually knowing who _I_ was. So I wanted — I _needed_ — to better understand myself. My hope was, maybe I would find peace in a year or so and then … check in. If you had moved on, I thought, I could be OK, because I would have a stronger sense of who I was and my purpose. And if not … I felt I could finally be in an actual relationship. This is not me using a martyr complex as an excuse; this is me saying that while I wanted something adult with you, I was not ready — nor were you; we were too codependent in our dysfunction — and a little bit more time —" she held her thumb and index finger a smidge apart — "would greatly improve our chances of success in the long haul."

"With you so far," he said. That was sort of what he had assumed, mentally, when she left.

"And then — six weeks later, I found out I was pregnant," she took in a deep sigh. "That changed things tremendously. I was no longer responsible only for myself. And I knew — Tony, I never doubted that you would be a wonderful father. That you would throw yourself into it, and do so much better than Eli or Senior. But I could also see, very clearly — maybe too clearly — the dangers into rushing into something, in coming together for a child. And I did not want that. And I did not want to disrupt your life, not when I had just thrown you out. And I still did not yet know my favorite food or who I was. So I told myself to wait. I was actually trying to be _less_ selfish."

"Keeping her from me wasn't your decision," he insisted.

"So if I would have told you, then what? Tony, I did not want to be back in America. You would have quit everything, come to Israel. I would have resented you for doing so, because I was not ready to _not_ be a martyr. I would have closed up, picked fights, not let you in. You would be uncertain and hot and cold. And you eventually would have resented me. We would have been the worst versions of ourselves and break up. I would have stayed there, you would be here, Tali … would be on airplanes every month or so. It was a bad decision, and hurtful, and I regret it … but I do not think it was _wrong_ , at the time. I still do not. I just wish everything had happened differently. But we can only accept the past and change the future, yes?" She lightly tossed his words back at him. "And then Tali was born."

"How was it?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Terrifying. Foreigh. Lonely," she paused. "Transformative. And after, after a while … I had a purpose again. I was able to think through the other questions, because I was grounded. I had something permanent." She swallowed. "I started volunteering with refugees. Completing my degree. Dancing Tali around rooms. Laughing more. Chasing butterflies. Eating hummus. Going to the beach. Mending hedges with Orli. And at that point yes, I should have called you. But I was … chicken. I thought you would be so angry, and rightfully so. I didn't want to upset your life; I couldn't face Gibbs." She spread her hands, pained and shocked and akimbo. "Of all the sins I have committed, of everything I have done that I wanted to walk away from — killing others, killing my _brother_ — this suddenly seemed, to me, like the biggest. The most unforgivable. The most senseless. I had a hard time facing the solution." She cast her eyes downward. "For that I am truly, deeply sorry."

He reached out a hand, took hers. Squeezed it. Raised it to his mouth for a kiss. "Hey," he said, knocking her out of her reverie. "When I let you go in Israel, you promised me you would take better care of yourself. You gotta stop beating yourself up, Zi."

She looked at him, eyes watery. "Thank you." Then: "What are you thinking?"

He sighed. "I … I don't know, Zi. I'm … upset." It sounded trite, but it seemed like the only fitting word. "This is a lot to process." _Also, four hours ago I thought you were dead_.

"You feel betrayed," she surmised. She had been an investigator and his partner, besides.

"Should I feel another way?" he asked. "I mean … It's either that, or you don't trust me. With yourself, with your heart, with our _daughter_. It's been years since …"

"Since what?" she asked, then — "Since Rivkin? Oh, Tony. Oh. No. This has … nothing to do with that. You … I have trusted you for a very, very long time. That has not changed. I trust you with Tali. I would trust you with my life."

"But not your heart, though," he repeated, because that is the only logical conclusion. "Not to split night shifts or drive you home from Aunt Nettie's when you've had an extra glass of red wine or to argue about the dishes or to talk about your day or to know where you hide all the knives. All the knives, Ziva, not just some of the knives. Everything you say you do to protect me — it just hurts _more_. You don't tell me about Tali so I can have a chance to move on?"

She was very, very still. "I know. But as I have said, I needed to know I _could_ stand on my own. And you did, too! We were too complicated then. We hurtled from Ari and Kate to Gibbs to Jeanne to Jenny to that summer to Somalia to Paris to Ray to EJ to Berlin to my father. Hurtling into parenthood — Tony, that could have broken us. It would have broken me. We needed to press the reset."

He couldn't deny that was true. Until that last year or so, their relationship had been desperate, fragmented, borderline unhealthy in their pathological inability to commit the way adults would; he was guilty of pulling as much as pushing, of deflecting instead of stepping up for her. To the others the decision to not tell him, the fear — it might seem undeniably selfish. Surely, Abby would have plenty of sharp words for her. But it made a sort of sick and twisted sense. But her self-punishment urge — "You _can't_ keep trying to be kind to avoid being cruel. That hurts so much more."

"I do think, now — this is the last big thing. I have learned those things. I just did not know how to tell you this, and I got scared and … It snowplowed."

He had to think about that for a minute. It had been a while since he needed to flex the Ziva-ism Translator. "Snowballed." He tugged one of her curls, so short and springy now, teasingly. Has her hair always been this curly? Or was there product in it? It reminded him of the look she had when she arrived in America, but with more defined curls now.

"Yes," she said, dipping forward into his space with a smile. Her eyes were serious though, telegraphing her true feelings. "What I am trying to say is … I know you are upset with me, I know we have much to work out. But I have changed. And I can change with you, now. I want you in Tali's life. I want you in my life."

He processed all his declarations to her through the years, filtered through her words. If he had learned anything in the last three years, it was that he _could_ live without her; not well, but he could. The difference was that he simply did not want to.

So he leaned over and kissed her — because he loved her, and he had missed her, and he had thought she was dead twelve hours ago. And because that was what the guys in the movies did when they decided they were going to spend the rest of their lives with someone.

She clutched at his face, keeping him close, and then rose to stand between his legs. Since he was still on the stool they were nearly the same height, and he quickly wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her close. The kiss was hungry, but not particularly lustful; it was a promise and a welcome home. Besides, their child was sleeping in the only bed in the apartment.

 _Their child_. He still couldn't believe it.

He'd stood, had her pinned to the counter, palms roaming her back over the silky tunic shirt thing she was wearing languidly, when his cell phone trilled in his back pocket. She laughed a little, kissed him lightly. "I bet that is Gibbs," she murmured into his ear.

"Bossman always had a hell of a sense of timing," he said with a heavy sigh, then looked at his phone. He held it in front of her so she could see it, and she laughed at the knowledge she was right. "Hey boss," he said, putting his other hand on the counter so she was trapped there. She didn't seem to mind: Instead of protesting, she tipped her chin up so she could hear Gibbs' side of the conversation as well. "Whaddaya got?"

"Abby's got a lead on Kort's location," Gibbs said. "Some dirt he left behind when he got Fornell. It's radioactive."

"Uh, do you really need me, boss? Still kinda process the whole Ziva's-not-dead-she's-in-my-kitchen-and-we-have-a-kid-thing," he said. Ziva, who was playing with the buttons on his shirt, harrumphed at his analysis, and he bumped a no-hard-feelings kiss onto her forehead in apology. "And said kid just went down for a nap."

"Don't need you, need Ziva. I just don't have her international number," Gibbs said.

"You were giving us four hours," Tony protested petulantly. "We have two hours and forty-eight minutes left."

"Why do you need me now, Gibbs?" Ziva called into the phone. He handed it over to her and she repeated the phrase.

"Need to talk to you about Kort."

"I do not know anything. He was after my father's files, nothing I had anything to do with."

"Because that's how investigations are conducted," Gibbs said. "Need you in."

"Tali is still napping," she protested.

"I'll stay with her," he said. "You can take my car."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"You're going to have to leave me alone with her sometime, you know."

"I know," she said, leaning up to kiss him briefly, phone tucked into the crook of her shoulder. "Thank you." Then she lifted the phone. "Gibbs, I'll be in in thirty." She hung up and handed the phone to him. "I will try not to stay long," she said. "We need supplies for Tali."

"Supplies?"

"A Pak'n'Play, so she can sleep — we do not need to get the toddler bed, I do not think — a high chair ... Your apartment is not babyproofed," she said bluntly. "I don't know how long we'll be here —"

"What did we just go over?"

"Tony," she cut in, "It's a one-bedroom condo. We cannot stay here indefinitely no matter what." She kissed him. "And we do not have time to make decisions now. But yes, hopefully this will not take long, and then we can pick up some things for her. And perhaps I should invite everyone over for dinner? I believe I owe them that."

"They'd all probably love to get to know Tali, too."

"Good idea. So yes, I will try and be quick," she said for the third time. He liked hearing her repeat that. "Count to ... one hundred thousand. I will see you soon."

With a flash and a kiss, she was gone.


	3. if he could be a part of Tali's life

Thanks so much for the positive responses so far! (And shout-out to Mechabeira, whose fic I have loved for years, for being far better at Hebrew than I!). Sorry this took so long; I was out for work. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. I envision about 2-3 more chapters to wrap us up, hopefully up within the next week or so. Let me know what you think!

* * *

iii.) if he could be a part of his daughter's life

Tali had clearly inherited Ziva's ninja senses; within twenty minutes of her mother leaving he could hear babbling in Hebglish. He slid the door open, saw her sitting up and chatting with kelev. Ziva had removed her bike shorts and folded them carefully before she had put her to sleep.

"Hey, Tali," he said, approaching the bed slowly and from a sideways angle, like he would a suspect. "Your _ima_ said you'd totally be down for a lot longer."

She turned to him with a smile and babbled some more, finally landing on "Ima!"

"Nah, she's out with Grandpa Gibbs," he said, the nickname coming to him easily. "Only Abba's here."

"Abba," she said confidently, pointing to him.

His heart broke open. "Yup, Abba," he said, picking her up from under the armpits and swinging her down. "Let's get your shorts back on, huh, and then we'll have some fun. I think your mom is gonna make dinner tonight."

"Raev," she said as he was helping her into her shorts.

"Uh, kelev?" he tried, holding out the dog.

"Raev," she repeated, voice whinier. "Raev!"

"Diaper?" he questioned, sniffing her. He'd really prefer Ziva take those.

She started to cry. "Abba raev. Raev!" She started rubbing her stomach.

" _Hungry_ ," he deduced. "Well, come on, Tali. Let's get you a snack."

"Ack. Ack," she repeated, recognizing the word, and it drew a smile out of him.

His fridge, though, quickly wiped the fridge off his face. He had wine, some beers, a few pieces of fruit, and several days' worth of takeout. He scrounged through a cabinet until he came up with some goldfish crackers, too. Tali looked skeptical. "Yeah, I know, not the greatest selection," he said. "But they're tasty." He popped one in his mouth. "Mmmmmm," he said, with an exaggerated, pantomimed belly rub. She took one, cautiously, and burst out into a smile.

Well, good. He found some Tupperware, tipped the fishes inside it, looked around for a place to sit. Ziva's remark about the need for baby-proofing rung in his ears, so he carefully perched her on a stool, hand close at her back. As she began to eat, he used the other hand to call his dad.

"Junior!" The new grandfather answered jovially. "You wouldn't believe the new types of toys there are these days. How was Ziva? Did you two talk? I ask because, do you think she would mind if I got her a pink kitchen? I don't want to cross her in case you two have some issues —"

"Ziva and I are fine, Dad, but that sounds like it'll take up a lot of room in a one-bedroom apartment. Maybe just a tea set or something. Because listen, does the store you're in have, like, _stuff_ too? Tali's gonna need a high chair, and Ziva said something about a PlayPak so she can sleep —"

"Pak'n'Play," Senior corrected.

"Right," he said, choosing not to dwell on the fact that his dad knew what that was and he did not. "Can you pick one up? Ziva took my car to NCIS." Tali made a move to grab something on the counter and he grabbed her before she fell completely off the chair and hit the ground. Eating on the floor it should be. "That sound good?"

"Yeah. Do you two need anything else?"

"Um," he stalled. "I don't know."

"Well, chances are she only has a couple of days worth of diapers and clothes. How old is she?"

"Uh … Twenty-two months."

"She looks big for her age. I'll pick up some diapers and some toddler food. If I know her lovely mother, Tali probably mostly eats organics. I'll see what they have." Senior was probably right about that; he hoped she wouldn't kill him over the goldfish.

"How do you know all this?"

"It's been a while, son, but I _did_ live with a toddler once upon a time," Senior replied. "I'll get what you two need." The line clicked off.

He managed to get Tali situated on a _Frozen_ blanket to finish her snack; once she had devoured them she threw the container up with an "All done!"

Well, hell. He had no idea what to do with her next. He chased her to the couch and made up some game that she seemed into — exploding hands and pretending confetti was falling — and then stared at her when she flipped sideways and looked at him balefully. "What else do you want to do, Tali?" He asked, running out of ideas. Kids didn't _scare_ him exactly, not anymore — he just had no idea what to do with her.

She seemed to get his question though and stood on the couch. Pointing at his TV, she yelled "Lelmo!" excitedly.

It took a minute for him to decipher that one. "You like Elmo, huh?" He asked, an idea coming to him. Wrapping an arm around her waist he grabbed the remote and toggled to Amazon Prime, quickly renting one of the damn Minion movies. She recognized the cartoon immediately and shouted "Gru! Gru!" with a laugh, before doing a twirl and collapsing next to him.

Alright then. The first Tony-and-Tali DiNozzo movie was going to be _Despicable Me._

Tali stayed relatively engaged, babbling with her in the same fluid mix of Hebrew and English she'd used from the start. He responded in English as much as he could and she laughed at his overly expressive faces. But eventually the time-zone shenanigans she'd been subjected to over the past twenty-four hours caught up with her again and she passed out, basically leaning her entire body against Tony's torso while standing on the couch. It amused him; like Ziva, she could apparently sleep anywhere, in any position.

Now that she was still for the first time since he'd met her, he got a minute to study her, commit this version of her — she was a toddler; she would grow and change nearly every day, he knew that much — to memory. Her breath was still somehow more infant than child; hot and sweet and heavy and fast against his neck. Her entire body was somehow vaguely sticky — whether that was an everyday kid-thing, or a consequence of travel and no bath, he wasn't sure. He could feel her heart fluttering through her chest; even though she was totally zonked out she still wasn't _still_ : She shifted and sighed and rolled and sometimes even giggled in her sleep. Her curls were honey-gold and matted against her neck, her fingernails were the size of a pen base and painted a sparkly, pale pink (he couldn't imagine Ziva willingly painting her child's fingernails that color. Hell, he couldn't imagine _Tali_ sitting still long enough for said manicure).

He'd known, instinctively, that she was genetically half him, half Ziva, as soon as he saw her. But it was extraordinary to be able to map their features, in miniature, onto Tali: She had the barest hint of Ziva's widow's peak; eyes shaped like the Paddington side of her family. Eli's nose; Senior's longer eyelashes. Ziva's ears; his tawnier, tanner complexion. Ziva's curls and lips; his square fingernails and chin. From some angles she looked exactly like baby photos of him; on the other side, she looked just like 6-year-old Ziva in that old photo with her siblings. It was extraordinary. Ninth-grade biology lessons finally clicked.

It was definitely the fastest he had ever fallen in love with a girl.

He drifted off at some point, only to be wakened by a key turning in the lock. He was expecting Senior, so the dark curls surprised him. "Hey," he croaked out in a whisper. "That was fast. Tali is still sleeping."

Ziva stood in the door, arms crossed, to take in the scene. A smile warned her face. "I see that," she said. "And her _abba_ took a nap too."

"We were watching _Despicable Me_ and she dozed off at some point," he explained. Ziva reached for the remote and clicked off the home screen, still with a funny, soft smile on her face. She seemed to … glow … in a way that he had never really seen from her. "What?" He asked, slightly indignant. "I didn't get a ton of sleep last night."

"No, it's just — the two of you sleeping after a movie. It is a … nice sight," she said, crossing into the kitchen.

"Get used to it. She's going to be the DiNozzo School of Cinema's star student."

"I do not know if I want to," she countered. When his eyebrows creased, poised for a fight, she quickly clarified, "I mean, I do not want to take it for granted." His features relaxed into a smile, and they stared dopily at each other. "Anyways. Gibbs says that the investigation is under control, and it sounds like Tali and I are quite safe. You do not have to come in this afternoon. That may change tomorrow, though, so he said to keep your phone near you. I stopped at the Harris Teeter and got groceries. And I invited the team over for dinner. Abby and McGee and Bishop and Ducky and Palmer said yes. But I think Gibbs is going to see Fornell." A shadow crossed her face.

"He's pretty worried about him," Tony said, trying to alleviate her hurt at his snub. "When all of this is done, you should take Tali to the basement for a chat. He's probably thinking of all the toys he can make her, you know that." He had no doubt that at some point, an overly intricate dollhouse would land on their doorstep, no card necessary.

"Yes, yes," she shook the conversation, though he could see it was still bothering her a little. "Speaking of toys — where is your father?"

He looked around, unsure. He should have showed up by now. "Still at the store I guess."

"Tony, I know that he is excited but he _cannot_ buy her all sorts of toys. I do not want her to get spoiled."

"Yeah, well, he's a grandpa, so good luck with that one. But I also called him and asked him to grab a high chair and the stuff you mentioned. So he probably is getting that."

"Oh, in that case," she said, "I should give him a call and have him pick up a few more things. Can I use your phone?"

He fished it out from under his body and tossed it at her. "How do I … With this," he nodded at Tali.

She smirked. "Has she been sleeping the whole time?"

"She woke up, had a snack — does _raev_ mean hungry? — and then we started the movie. Altogether she was up for maybe an hour."

"She will not be an easy sleeper tonight," she sighed, unlocking his phone and dialing.

"How did you —"

"I guessed my birthday," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Here, if you do not want to wake her, just — ease her onto the couch. But either she screams now or she screams later."

"So … let her sleep, is what you're saying," he replied, easing her onto the couch and standing.

"I guess," she replied distractedly. "Her naps are usually two hours, and then she sleeps nine hours at night … Hello. Senior! Hi, yes, Tony said that you're at the store …"

As she paced he unloaded the cloth bags of groceries, then started googling Toddlers and Time Zones. Basically, they had done everything wrong. "Ziva, I _really_ think we should wake her up," he called. "She's not going to sleep at all tonight." And he wasn't sure what Ziva's plans were tonight but his were definitely contingent on the kid being asleep.

"— and you got diapers? You know, she wears 24-month-old diapers — Oh. Okay," Ziva said, "Then _wake her up_ , Tony. Just … gently. She will scream. I have warned you. It will be fine."

"It's now or later," he parrotted as she continued to talk to his father.

" — and then food should only be organic, low-sugar vegetables and lean proteins," she turned back to Tony, "— You're her father, Tony, you can wake her up. I agree with you, she's going to have a tantrum now or later; we might as well adjust her to the new time zone." Her head snapped back, "— Senior, sorry, and then finally can you get her some all-organic fruit purees? Not too many; they're actually very unhealthy. Too high in sugar." Her eyebrows raised. "Oh, you got those too? How many?"

He grabbed Kelev and headed back to Tali. He shook her slightly and she began to rouse. "Come on, Tali," he coached. "You gotta get up. I'm sorry, baby."

Predictably, she burst into tears as soon as her eyes opened. Ziva hung up with his father as he bounced her on his lap. "Well, your father _swears_ that he got everything that we might need —"

"A little help here, Ziva?" he asked as he shook the dog in front of her.

"Why? You are doing great," she said, smiling but puzzled. "She is a toddler, Tony. She screams and cries sometimes. Most of the times."

"Like this?" he said, tilting his head toward where she was gulping and heaving tears.

"Yes, like this," she said, "Don't you, Tali? When you are tired? But playing with Kelev makes it better? Does it not? Does it not?" she smiled at Tali, and her features tricked Tali into calming down. "She is not even two. She has whatever emotion you tell her to have right now. If you are happy … she is happy. If you are anxious … she is crying."

"Oh, is that all there is to this parenting thing?" he said, making his voice expressive, and tickling Tali's stomach. "Is that all there is?" She started laughing, tears miraculously dried. Ziva sat next to them and started tickling her too, blew a raspberry against her cheek.

"Kids? I'm home. Got some stuff," Senior said, opening the door on the three-way tickle fight. "Ah. Don't you look all happy."

Ziva untangled herself and stood. "Thank you for picking everything up. I must say, grateful as I am, Tali does _not_ need many, many things. She does not need to be spoiled. Tony and I are _very_ much on the same page here." He raised his eyebrows a bit at that, but knew whose team he was on for this one.

"Just a few things to get her settled in the United States," he said. "Come on down to the car, help me get the things out." He sat two bags down. "That's the baby food."

"Come on, Tali, let's go see what Grandpa picked up," Tony scooped Tali up with another giggle.

"Now, you're going to say it is too much —"

"If it is more than two dolls and a crate of diapers, you are right," Ziva warned, crossing her arms.

"You're one of those strict moms, aren't you?" he surmised as he handed Tali to her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, and you don't just get to play fun cop, DiNozzo."

"Good cop," he corrected. "And I can be strict."

"See, it's just a little. The car is just … small," Senior announced as they came across his car.

"How did you drive _home_ with the amount of stuff in there?" Tony asked. "You can't even see out the back window."

"Carefully," Senior said, with a hint of dignity. Then he amended, "Very carefully."

Ziva snorted, then said gently, "Thank you, but she does not need all of this, Senior. And as I told Tony, there are many things yet to be determined. Maybe we keep some of it at your apartment. Or wait until her birthday."

"Sweetheart, you used to fall prey to my charms much more easily," he faux-groused.

She laughed again. "Those same charms are now frequently used by a toddler to get me to ignore bedtimes and reasonable dietary guidelines. I have developed an immunity."

"Not _that_ much of an immunity, I hope," Tony said, quietly enough that his father couldn't hear. She smirked.

"Tali got here somehow," she murmured back _sotto voce_ as they watched Senior tug toys out and he fought the urge to hand the kid to his dad and drag Ziva inside. It was almost overwhelming, to remember how physical his reaction to her always was. Even when they weren't sleeping together, he had simply wanted to be in her orbit, to stand too close and look too long and touch just a touch too unprofessionally.

"This is the high chair — _you said_ to get that," Senior said defensively. Rolling his eyes, Tony made a move to help his dad. "And clothes, and diapers. There's, uh, there's a Pak'n'Play in there, too, and one of those diaper genies. And I got those latches too, so she can't get into cabinets. And a cage so she can't go into other rooms."

"I'm guessing cages mean nothing for ninja babies," Tony remarked as he pulled out a set of blocks, a tea set, three cloth dolls, four child-sized chairs and a table, several puzzles and books, and the tiny kitchen set Tony thought he had nixed.

"Merely challenges to be overcome," Ziva agreed, staring balefully at the pile of toys now on the curb. "Come. Let us get everything inside." She swung a shopping bag of diapers and clothes onto her empty shoulder and headed to the door.

They got everything inside, quickly assembled the Pak'n'Play, stacked the rest of the things. With a look, Senior scuttled out with promises to return for dinner, and then it was the three of them again, Tali playing in the corner with some puzzles. He felt energized. "You know, there's a park on Columbia, with a pretty nice playground. We could take her there for the rest of the afternoon." And as she had mentioned, there was much to discuss.

"I should probably start dinner soon. Lasagna takes several hours," Ziva said with a yawn. "You could take her."

"You sure?" he checked. "You're not just trying to get rid of me? Regretting coming to D.C.?" He joked but … really.

"No, of course not," she said quickly, eyes dark and inscrutable. To punctuate her point, she gave him a hard kiss to the mouth. He gripped her waist loosely, held her against him, needing to feel her presence and like he had a modicum of sway over her decisions. "But I want you and Tali to get to know each other," she admitted."I want you both to be comfortable."

It was an uncomfortable confession. Even though he accepted her earlier apologies he had to, instinctively, bite back the easy, bitter response, and wondered how long the reflex would be to do so. Instead, he just kissed her lightly, taking her statement at face value. He wanted that, too, and he couldn't change the past. And what was the alternative — to not know Tali existed? To not have them in his life? To have a less-than relationship with Ziva? All were much worse.

So he wrapped Tali in her windbreaker and packed her in the stroller, took her the three blocks to the newly opened park. As soon as he released her she fled toward the swings with a surefooted agility that was absolutely unsurprising. "You wanna swing, huh?" He asked as she babbled in Hebrew, the consonants clanging unnaturally against his ear. She didn't seem to get particularly frustrated by the language barrier; mostly, she seemed to find him charming and silly (not unlike her mother.). Besides _kelev_ , the only word he could really understand was _abba._

It was a little disconcerting because, while Ziva was emphatic about having spoken about him, and he believed her, he wasn't sure if Tali knew what it meant (hell, he knew that she didn't, yet). So he decided to have his first daddy-daughter talk.

"So, Tali," he started, pushing her in the bucket swing, "we don't know each other very well, but we're gonna be spending a lot of time together, from here … Until, well hopefully forever. I would say you're gonna have to put me in the home one day, but your mother is _significantly_ younger than I am and so she can probably handle it. I hope. I mean, she is really the one I want to do that. Though Gibbs will probably live forever so he's an option too, I guess." He sighed, feeling off track, and continue to push her. "My point is that I probably owe you an apology. For not being there from the get-go. I definitely would have been, I do want you to know that, though I also want you to know that when you ask one day, it wasn't anybody's fault …" She giggled at something in the distance, still babbling. "Anyways. Your mom and I — I want it to work. I love her. I'm going to do everything I can to convince her. But even if I don't — I'm here for you, OK? I want to make sure you get that."

He stopped the swing gently and made a face at her, making her burst out with laughter. "Abba Abba!" She exclaimed, and his heart broke at the words. No matter how complex and contradictory the situation was, the emotions also felt remarkably simple. He loved her; he didn't know her; he didn't know he wanted this; he already couldn't imagine anything else.

He remembered his mother telling him once that happy endings depended on where you stopped the story. Even after all these years as a cop he believed that.

Tali and Ziva would be a part of his.

And he would be a part of theirs.


	4. if she proposed a new life together

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Much appreciated. I'm rewatching s10 right now (my first NCIS binge in a _very_ long time) and that's helping fuel the writing binge. I think there is one more chapter in this to wrap up — hopefully next week.

I'm no longer sure if this is completely aligned with the timeline in the episode, which is normally a huge sticking point for me, but I don't super-want to re-watch the episode more than I already have. So all errors are mine. Similarly, Lipush very graciously helped me with the Hebrew here, but if it doesn't work in context, all mistakes are mine.

Happy reading!

* * *

He and Tali stayed at the park for nearly two hours, until the waning sun signaled they were probably needed at home. He picked up some rudimentary Hebrew based on what Tali was pointing at — leaf, tree, slides — as they'd played around the park. She'd even made friends with a little girl in a yellow windbreaker.

"Your daughter looks just like you," the other girl's mother said.

"My coloring, a little, but believe me — she's all her mother," he'd replied with a smile.

They ran a quick errand and headed home, where the kitchen — hell, the entire apartment — smelled better than ever, and he told Ziva that. "That is because your definition of cooking is to reheat a burrito," she said, left lip curling up. She was stirring what looked like a yellow cake mix by hand; a few cartons of berries and a bag of powdered sugar were stacked next to her.

He kissed the smirk off her face. "What do you need help with?" he asked.

She sighed deeply and banged the wooden spoon against the bowl to loosen batter. It slithered back with the rest of its batch. "I think that we are OK. The lasagna is in the oven. I have garlic bread to heat up. McGee said they would be over around 7 at the latest, and I have wine. This cake is for dessert and will go in soon. We also should probably clean up Tali's toys, and give her a bath of course, and we will need to set the table for at least nine —"

"Ziva. Slow down. You're going a mile a minute."

"Sorry," she sighed. "I am a little nervous," she confessed.

"Why? It's Abby and McGee and Bishop — I think you'll like her, actually — and Ducky and Palmer and my dad."

"I know," she said. "It has just been a while. And I have not exactly been honest. And Abby … Likes to express her feelings."

He squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about Abby." He had a feeling Gibbs would probably get to her. "It's logically impossible for it to go badly," he reassured her. "Just …"

"What?"

"What do you want to tell them?"

She lifted a shoulder. "Well they already know we broke most of Gibbs' rules."

"I mean about what's next. I'm not saying we need to tell them when the housewarming is—"

"What housewarming?"

"Well you said it yourself, this place is too small for the three of us."

"Yes but I think discussing a _housewarming_ is far into the future."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I agree, Zee-vah," he drawled her name the way he hadn't in years. "That's why I said that. But they're going to _ask_ what's next _._ And we don't know. So I am asking what we tell them until we _do_."

She rolled her eyes. "I do not see how that is any of their business."

"Sure you do. They're our friends. Hell, they're family. They want to know."

"Well. Let us tell them that a lot of things are happening very quickly, and there is still a lot to work out, but we are going to work on it together."

"We are, right?"

"Going to work on it? Yes."

"No. _Together_."

"Oh. Yes. I … thought that is what we decided this morning."

"I … Yeah. I was just checking. That it's not just for now, or for Tali. Not, like, _dedicated to coparenting_ , together. But … partners, together."

"No. I … I love you, Tony, and my hope is that things seem to go easier and end with fewer deaths and bombings when I just admit that," she smiled ruefully. "So yes, I would like to be … together."

He leaned in and kissed her. "I love you too." He was still in awe of this new, (comparatively) open Ziva. It already led to far fewer miscommunications and missed opportunities. "We've got this," he said, emphasizing the _we. "_ Tali needs a bath?"

She snapped back to the present. "Yes. I will show you. She is a bit of a duck. She likes them quite a bit when there are plenty of bath toys."

His dad had, of course, purchased said bath toys, as well as a ducky bathrobe with a bill on its hoodie. Tony filled the tub with water and baby bubbles as Ziva shimmied Tali out of her clothes and tossed them in the hamper. Ziva tested the water temperature quickly with her fingers, then lowered Tali into the tub as the toddler shrieked with excitement. He distracted her with toys as Ziva scrubbed her, narrating to him in English and conversing with Tali in Hebrew the entire time. Halfway through they switched places, and she flicked water lightly at both of them as she walked Tony through baby shampoo. "And then you tip her head back and run the water through it," she said, before giving Tali instructions in Hebrew. She complied obediently.

"What'd you tell her?"

"To put her chin high in the air," Ziva said, puffing a bubble at Tali. "Tony — I do take her speaking Hebrew and being Jewish very seriously, just so you know. I want her to know and have a less complicated relationship with her heritage."

He inhaled and exhaled deeply. "That makes sense," he said. "There's probably some classes at a synagogue I could take so I'm not completely lost, right? And I read about a Hebrew immersion charter school opening soon a few miles away; they have a preschool. We could send her there."

She cast her eyes quickly and down to the left. "Yes, perhaps. I will look into that." She gave him a quick kiss and rose. "I need to finish dinner and put the cake in the oven. You have this under control, yes?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Just do not make her turn into a raisin!" Ziva called, already most of the way to the kitchen.

He turned back to Tali. "You ready to get out?" he asked. She slammed a boat into the water, creating a huge wave in response, and laughed heartily.

Well then.

They played in the water until it was too tepid even for her, and he lifted her out before draining the tub. As he was toweling her off the doorbell rang, and Ziva yelled, "Tony! Can you get that?"

"One sec!" he yelled, swaddling Tali in the robe. "Here. Play with Kelev," he said, giving her the dog and jumping over the gate he'd installed in front of his bedroom door. "Abba'll be right back."

He ran for the door, tried to be cool as he swung it open to reveal McGee and Bishop. "Hey, guys, welcome. Come in; I just have to —" Tali, vibrantly yellow in her robe, ran straight past him into the kitchen. "Incoming, Ziva," he called. He heard Ziva's exclamation, then Tali-giggles.

"Natalia Rivka Elisheva DiNozzo, nisit livroach m'abba?," Ziva said with a laughing chuckle as she carted Tali under her arm back into the main room. The last name made him startle. "She escaped," she smirked, passing her off to Tony. "Gates are merely challenges."

"Damn ninja genes," he responded.

"Just get the PJ's on. She will fall asleep anyways," Ziva instructed.

"Got it," he said. "Make yourselves at home, guys," he told the other two.

"Can I get your anything to drink? There is a Cabernet and a Riesling," Ziva asked.

McGee and Bishop stared between two of them, then flicked their eyes over the living room which, while straightened up, still had plenty of toys and baby crap all over. If pressed, Tony would have to describe the scene as _domestic_. He felt a little sheepish, but was determined to fake normality till they made it. Everyone else would fall in line.

"Riesling sounds great," Bishop said after a beat. Tony turned to deal with Tali, who was squirming _hard._

"Red," McGee added, looking stunned.

Tony jammed Tali into pink-and-blue footie pajamas that reminded him vaguely of peppermints, barely getting them on before she dashed out of the room again. "Ziva, you've, uh, settled in quite nicely," he heard McGee said as he followed Tali back to the living room. She predictably ran straight to Ziva.

"It is important that Tali have a routine," she replied, and he recognized (and approved) of this strategy immediately: torture McGee via deflection. "Besides, Tim, you know that I am able to adapt quickly." She took one look at Tali's messy, wet hair and rifled through her purse for a brush and tie.

"True," McGee replied, taking a generous swig of his wine. "So this is Tali," he tried.

"Yes," Ziva smiled, kneeling behind a suddenly-shy Tali to deal with the hair. "Tali, _Tagidi Shalom l_ Tim and Ellie?"

"Sh'lom," she whispered with a small wave, folding backwards into her mother.

"She is very outgoing normally but is not good with strangers, right, _neshomeleh?_ " she said.

"She sure got used to Tony quickly," Bishop blurted out, surprised, before realizing how that might sound. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Of course," Ziva said evenly, daring comments. "He is her _abba."_

"Where is everyone?" Tony changed the subject. "Abby, Ducky, Palmer? Are they still coming?"

"Yeah, Abby was wrapping some stuff up with Monroe and Reeves," McGee said. "Running some more analyses on the potential Kort evidence."

"How's that going?" Tony asked. "Catch me up. I'm planning on coming in tomorrow."

"You are?" Bishop asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" He'd already lost a day; now that things seemed more under control he mostly wanted to get the bastard.

"Yeah but being here seems like it might be more important," Bishop said.

"I for one will be very grateful when Kort is taken care of," Ziva chimed in. "It will be a relief when he is killed or captured."

His ears prickled at that — while he agreed, he could hear echoes of a near-lifetime ago. "Even if there is always another monster?" he quoted curiously. He had always viewed that conversation, more than anything else, as the beginning of the end of Ziva's time in law enforcement, when she began her long, tortured path to punishing herself (and him) for redemption.

Ziva's arms closed protectively around Tali's waist. "Tony, he bombed the house where I slept with Tali," she said tightly. "He has been terrorizing us, in one form or another, since 2007. I do _not_ want you — any of you — making targets of yourselves but yes, in this instance — yes, I will feel nothing but gratitude when he is disposed of."

There was certainly more for the two of them to discuss, but not in front of guests. "So yeah, I'm coming in tomorrow," he said after a beat.

The doorbell rang again, and Bishop swung the door open to reveal Abby, Ducky, Palmer, and his father. " _There she is!_ " Abby exclaimed, going straight for Tali. She stopped two feet short. "Does she get scared of new people?"

"Only at first," Ziva said. "Otherwise she is a bit of a ham. Here, Tali, this is _Abby_."

"Abba," she said, confused, pointing at Tony.

"Awww, that's so cute!" Abby said. "Can I be _Doda_?" I read that's 'Aunt.' I get to be aunt, right?"

"Of course," Ziva said, with grace. "Say shalom, Tali." Instead of responding, though, Tali buried her head in her mother's neck.

"She's beautiful, Ziva," Ducky said kindly. "Truly, she is the best of both of you."

The chitchat was fragile for a bit but eventually relaxed with familiarity and alcohol. Adults passed a pliant Tali from lap, cooing and exclaiming and attempting to make her laugh, until Ziva decreed they should eat. "Yes! I have _missed_ your cooking, Ziva," Palmer said, scooting Tali off his lap and holding her finger to walk her over.

"You cooked in addition to being a super-secret agent?" Bishop asked warily.

"Ziva's good at most things," Tony offered boldly, because it was true. He tested the high chair to make sure Senior had assembled it properly, then lifted Tali into it. "Except knitting. She tried that once and she sucked."

"And Tony has always been a charmer," she replied. "It is very straightforward tonight — simply lasagna, salad, bread, and a cake from a box."

"Perfect, my dear," Senior replied, kissing her temple. "I think I speak for everyone when I say we came for the company more than anything else."

"On that note," Ziva said as he settled Tali into the high chair between the two of them and the adults took their seats. "I would just like to — briefly — say thank you all for coming. It has been an … eventful and chaotic and surprising twenty-four hours, and many of you are still in the middle of an active, ongoing investigation for a man who has tried to destroy things that all of us hold dear. I think that makes it even more important that we take some time to be together. And given everything I have done or not done over the last three years — well. I am incredibly grateful for your presence, here." He reached over, took her hand, and she rubbed her thumb over the meat of his palm absentmindedly.

"And you, my dear — it is beyond wonderful to see you safe, and in the flesh, and to meet the lovely Tali. The only thing you ever need to do, at the end of the day, is to come home," Ducky said. "And are we to infer that perhaps some feelings have rekindled themselves this afternoon?"

Ziva squeezed his hand, and he picked up on the signal. "There's a lot to work out, yes, but we're partners. We plan to do so together."

"I _knew_ it!" Abby crowed. "God, Ziva, I'm so happy to have you back. And you two — it's like a movie ending, you know?"

"Movie's not over," Tony reminded her. Hell, it had barely begun.

"Yes, life is not like the movies. There is plenty to work out," Ziva added.

"What does that mean? You are _back_ , right? To stay?" Abby demanded.

Ziva hesitated, and suddenly he remembered — her Paris job. With the UN. Her caginess clicked. "I'm here, now. Tony and I are together, as parents and as partners, personally. But like he said, there is much to discuss."

"Like what?" Abby demanded. "I'm not mad — I know everyone expects me to be mad. But I love you and respect you have their reasons, even if they're not the choices I would make." That was a first from Abby. "Because I _know_ you love Tony. And us. So why isn't it that simple?"

"Abs —" McGee started.

"Well, to start with: Tali's last name. What language she should speak at home. Whether or not we want to live together immediately or give ourselves some space at first. Dog versus cat. Who takes out the trash. Who has to talk to Senior when he drops two grand on toys." His father made a pained cry of protest. "All of that stuff. All of the _other_ stuff that came before that in our ten years of _not_ talking about issues. And we're still us, too, so chances are one of us may end up injured in the process. We know you love us, we know you're excited and … you'll know stuff when we know stuff," Tony interjected.

There was a pause as everyone processed. Then McGee said: "Remember all their fights about Ziva's driving? This'll be fun."

"Or who got to detonate the bombs and shoot the bad guys," Abby added.

"The battles over the Mighty Mouse stapler," Ducky chortled. "And did you not lick his ear to wake him up as he slept through a sexual-harassment seminar?"

"She did! And remember when Tony put her through the probie hazing? Going through the Dumpsters at every crime scene? I thought she was going to kill him and McGee." Now it was Palmer's turn to chime in.

"And how mad was _he_ when she didn't invite him to her dinner party and then he got _shot,"_ Abby tossed out.

"That was flirting, not a fight," Ziva amended. He _knew_ it.

"It says a lot that you intentionally engineered a fight to flirt," Senior added.

"Oh, _any_ time Senior tried to hit on Ziva," Abby. " _That_ was fun to watch them argue about. Not that you're not the most charming person I've ever met, Mr. DiNozzo. I'll totally go undercover as your date any time, Senior." His dad winked exaggeratedly.

"Does this surprise anyone? The first thing she said to me was to ask if I was having phone sex," Tony interrupted before his dad asked Abby out.

"I don't believe I ever got a straight answer, either," Ziva retorted with a smirk.

"You know, I never believed what everyone said, and I think I get it now," Bishop said.

"What did people say?" Tony asked.

"You don't want to know," McGee cut in quickly, and everyone laughed.

Conversation relaxed and expanded again. Ziva expertly fed the kid with one hand while talking to Ellie (them getting along pleased him, for some reason), and his father displaced him to sit next to Tali. He, Tim, and Ducky discussed the case, with Abby interjecting into nearly every conversation happening. Ziva shared a few stories of her life in Israel — her degree, her garden, her meddlesome aunts. At some point Tali started pushing away Ziva's hand with a _no_ , though, and playing with the food instead of eating it. After one especially vicious swipe, Ziva clicked twice to get his attention, and nodded at Tali, who was turning red. "I need to get her to bed," she said quietly, leaning over Senior. "She's about to start crying."

"What do we do?"

"Get her away from everyone. Now," Ziva said, lifting Tali out of the chair as her voice began to rise into a tremulous wail. He quickly followed her into the living room, shutting the doors behind them. "Normally there is a song I sing, and I like to read her a story," she explained, pacing slowly, her fingers tracing a lazy pattern on Tali's back as they cries, never pitched to full-blow, dissolved into whimpers and gasps. "I think that she is close to sleep, though." She stopped. "Do you want her?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. The motion … soothes her. Here," she said, carefully transferring Tali to his arms. "Just … walk with her." He made a few circles but she seemed to be zooming into dreamland; eventually he just stood and swayed, whispering a _shhh_ into her ear. Ziva, next to him, rubbed her back and hummed a melody he vaguely recognized. Once she'd settled firmly asleep, they lowered her into the Pak'n'Play and shut the French doors to the dining room.

"That was easy," he joked, running his hand down her spine, and she laughed hard as they retook their seats.

"This was _so great_ ," Abby said once the clock neared ten. "But, you know … case. I need to get back to the lab."

"Gibbs gave us three hours," McGee explained. "We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. We'll be in," Tony confirmed.

"We. I like the sound of that," Abby said, hugging Ziva tightly.

They left. "So my replacement," Ziva said, conversationally. "Very well adjusted."

"Yeah, she's a good kid," Tony said, then winced. Bishop was only about three or four years younger than Ziva. Though Ziva was a lot younger than him. Which he didn't want to think about. "Two parents, both alive. Doesn't show up in Gibbs' basement to drink his bourbon. She's getting divorced right now though. It's tough."

"Well she seems tough," Ziva said, moving to clear the dishes. "More wine?"

"Sure," he said, collecting a few glasses. "I thought that went well, overall." Certainly Abby was better-behaved than he had even hoped or dreamed of.

"Yes," she replied, scrubbing distractedly at a plate.

"Gibbs needed to be with Fornell right now," he reminded her, deducing her concerns. "He thinks you and Tali are safe, here. You're like a daughter to him, but Fornell's his brother."

"I know," she said, and he knew it was true. She poured his wine and passed him the glass.

"I … got you something today," he remembered, fishing a flattened white paper bag out of his pocket.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"I know that your original Star of David necklace was your grandmother's and your mother's. And that Gibbs got you your new one which is kind of … familial too, you know? And that's the one I still have. So I figured you would probably want it to go to Tali, one day. So … I got you a new one." He unrolled the edge of the paper bag, pulled out the plastic bag within, tore it a bit as he tried to undo the tape flapped over the open side. The necklace, a little tangled, gleams golden in the kitchen light. "There's a ruby in the center, for Tali's birthstone."

Her mouth hung open, speechless. "When —"

"After the park," he said. "Tali helped pick it out."

"It is beautiful," she said, finally. "Help me put it on?" She turned, scooted into his space, pulled her cloud of hair to the side to expose her neck. He looped the chain around her throat, fastened it, trailed a series of kisses down her neck as she sunk back closer to him. Eventually she turned; planting her hands on his hips, kissed him on the mouth.

They made out languidly for a few minutes before he asked, "Want to watch a movie?"

She pulled back. "Tali is sleeping in the living room," she pointed out, then arched her eyebrows. "We should probably just go to the bedroom, no?"

He loved the way she thought.

She pulled him through the living room, pausing briefly to check on a snoring Tali ("your genes," she teased, and he was so excited he didn't even retort), before gently pressing him into the door until it clicked shut.

Her skin was silk under his palms; her mouth and hands greedily roamed up and down and then all over. "God I've missed this," he muttered as her hands went for his belt, and he started walking them both in the direction of the bed. They had always, no matter how tempestuous their emotional and professional relationship had been, connected _very_ well on a physical level. Her hands stilled, and he could sense an apology on the tip of her (still shoved in his mouth) tongue. He moved his mouth to kiss the dip in her shoulder. " _Don't_. We're good, Zi." He found the eyehooks on her bra and popped it open before cupping a breast.

She pulled out his belt, then crossed her arms to lift her own shirt. Her bra dangled uselessly off her shoulders, and he ran a finger under one of the straps to take it off. Naked from the waist up, glowing and wild, she smiled at him before looping her hands around his neck and pulling him down.

They took it slow, reacquainting themselves with the new curves and dips and valleys of the other's bodies. She had new curves from Tali, which were wondrous; his hair had greyed (less wondrous), and she looked with alarm at a new scar on his bicep, where a suspect had winged him eight months ago. He muttered a "You're amazing," when he started kissing down her sternum to her belly button, but for the most part they were silent, using hands and mouths to express what the words could not. Slow was a foreign concept to them — with the exception of the summer Gibbs had been drinking tequila, their "connections" were usually emotionally fraught (though he supposed this also qualified) — and he reveled in it. There would be plenty of time for frenetic "Thank God you're alive" sex later. They were also much quieter than he remembered — a groan, a suck, a moan, a gasp as he sank into her, hooking her leg behind his hip as she arced toward him, but not the laughter and banter they'd always been good at.

He liked this just as much, maybe even better.

They'd both been non-cuddlers in the past (with a few exceptions, like in Paris and Berlin — basically, on non-American soil), but when they were finished she pillowed her head on his chest, sighed softly as she traced patterns and twirled her fingers into his chest hair. "I've missed this too," she admitted. "It is a relief to know — that still works."

He gave her a half-skeptical, half-leering look. "Come on. You knew it would be good."

"True," she said, laving a needy kiss onto his neck. "You are really going in tomorrow?"

"Well, yeah, Zi. You told me to," he said.

"I know," she said. "I just … This is nice."

He tilted his head. "I _can_ stay," he said, though they both knew he would not.

"No. I really do want him caught. Or dead. I … I really do want to live a peaceful life. And it is not easy whenever an old comrade of my father tries to kill me."

"And you think it'll be easier in Paris?" he asked, bringing up the subject that they'd both been avoiding. The New Them discussed problems head-on.

If she was surprised that he was bringing it up, living up to the promise of the New Them, she did not show it. "I do," she said. "But more importantly, the job that is there … I am truly excited for it, Tony. I chose it, Tony. I can be good at this; I can help people."

"And … You still want this — us — at the same time?"

"Yes. Absolutely," she said, and he made a _well, then, what?_ gesture. "I was going to call when I got there. You know that. I want you to come to Paris," she said, sitting up and running a hand across his chest and over the bicep on the other side of his body. He tensed automatically at the proposition. "I am serious. You love Paris. We can show it off to Tali. We can get an apartment in the Seventh and go to museums on the weekends and the beaches in Italy in the summer."

"What would I do in Paris?"

"Anything you want. Work for DHS or Interpol or with State. God knows there is plenty to investigate there. Be with with Tali all day, if that is what you want, make up for the years I took from you. Write a screenplay. Eat croissants and drink coffee and buy a mo-ped." She shifted up, animated. "Tony, I am completely serious. This job is exciting for me, yes, but I think this is more exciting for us. It is time for new adventures and a kind of partnership, I think. Paris is … A fresh start. For us. For us and Tali."

"DC is home. Gibbs, Abby, McGee…"

"Love us, and will understand, and will probably come and spend a month with us at the holidays." She touched his cheek. "It does not have to be forever. It will probably not be forever. They are family, after all, and we both have so little of it I do not want to deprive her of that love while it is around. But we—" she thumbed his cheekbone as she worked through her realizations, "we have both spent so long chasing permanence in fixed things. New citizenship, new homes, highly secured apartments, never-changing teams, cultural traditions … They do not offer those, because they are external, and change is inevitable." She gripped his hand. "I am not saying we will have no problems if we move to Paris, or that it will be easy—"

"Ziva David, I knew from the _second_ you entered the bullpen you would not be easy," he cracked, and she leaned over to shut him up with a deep, happy kiss.

"And I have never pretended otherwise," she smiled, pulling back before he could get too frisky. "But nothing we have tried has offered either of us permanency or security. Except for each other. You have been a constant since I was twenty-two, Tony. My entire adult life. And the only thing I have learned is that … Home is not a place; home is you. And I am tired of fighting that fact for shadows and for the greater good and for Gibbs' rules and for fear. I am … _happy_ , happier than I even imagined, to be home. With you. I have realized that today. And I think we have been doing everything exactly wrong. If you are my home … Why stay in DC? There are so many ghosts here, too, more than Israel. Ari. Kate. Jeanne. Michael. Jenny. My father. Jackie. Why not do something for us, and to give ourselves the best shot and wonderful memories and to give our daughter experiences she will get nowhere else?"

He didn't have a good answer for that. "Tell me about the job," he finally said.

Her features softened. "It will be wonderful, Tony. It's through UNHCR, based in Paris but with some travel, I think. I started working with them at a camp for Syrian refugees, through a friend. It's going to be programmatic. I will be working with women and children to connect them to resources, like schools and available housing, and language courses, and jobs. It is a little bit like social work or counseling, I suppose, but I will be primarily running the programming — finding and making those connections. The laws and borders are changing rapidly so there is much to stay on top of. And I think I will teach a few self-defense classes, too, and there is a need to develop some assimilation programming, to help them acclimate to new European cultural norms. It is hard work, yes, but it will be good work." Her eyes shone.

"I am," she said, "And I want to share it with you."

He paused. There was so much to work out, so much in the air, and so much yet to say. But he had no good rebuttals to her arguments. "So. The Seventh. That's the fancy one, right?"


	5. if his family was supportive

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for the kind words for ch. 4, and my apologies for the delay. Turns out this is actually a six-part story, so the final section should be up soon. There are probably slight deviations from the timeline in the episode; I could not watch the ep w/out joining CBS' app so there may be some inconsistencies (besides the huge AU turn).

Would love to hear thoughts!

v.) if his family was supportive

And so they stayed up late talking. While he didn't entirely commit to the idea of moving to Paris, they hashed out a surprising number of the hypotheticals he'd raised at dinner into realities (Ziva would update Tali's birth certificate at the State Department this week; they might as well move in together; he was in charge of putting an annual gift budget in place for Senior; dog first, cat eventually; Ziva would take out the trash if he did the dishes; Tali would be raised Jewish but they would still celebrate Christmas) in a very short time frame. When he expressed surprise at their efficiency, Ziva had yawned, curled beside him, and said, "But of course, Tony. There is simply nothing else to hide behind. We are here, on the same page, and we are parents, and we need to act responsibly." He'd smiled. "But why are you making this so easy?" She asked. "You have every right to be difficult or angry."

"Because it is," he said. It was true.

Being up for thirty straight hours finally caught up to Ziva, and she'd drifted off shortly after. He had visions of a round of morning sex when they woke up, but since they were awakened by a screaming Tali at 3:30 AM, that was quickly dashed. Parenthood, he supposed.

"It is the time changes, I think," Ziva said, stretching to pull his sweater on. "Her sleep schedule is all whacked out."

"Whacked up," he said, unable to process Ziva-isms at this hour of the night. "If we rock her will she go back to sleep? Or a story?"

"Let's just bring her in here," Ziva said.

"Won't that, like, give her issues later in life?"

"Not if you put on shorts," she threw his at him.

"I mean … Shouldn't we let her, like, cry it out? Or sleep in her own bed?"

"You want to have this argument _now_?" Ziva crossed her arms. Tali wailed in the background. "Co-sleeping is a routine practice in many cultures; I do not see the problem in using it in an inch. Like this one." He did not bother to correct _pinch._

The debate ceased to matter because Tali, in tears, pushed open their door. " _Ima, Ima_ ," she said, babbling incoherently. " _Ima_ , _laylah_."

"I know, _Talileh_ ," she said, scooping her up. "It is still dark in America, yes, but Ima and Abba are here." She plopped her on the bed, switching to Hebrew temporarily before switching back into English. "See, we are still here, and it is still sleepytime, ok, _neshomeleh_?" She smoothed the teartracks off Tali's face, murmuring in Hebrew again, while Tony rubbed Tali's back. Her cries quieted to hiccups temporarily, but then returned in full force. "What _is_ it?" Ziva crooned.

Tony looked around. "Kelev," he said suddenly. It was the first time he'd seen Tali without the dog. "On it." He darted out, found the dog chucked in the corner of the Pak'n'Play. As soon as the dog was in sight, Tali's tears calmed again.

"See, Abba to the rescue, _ken_ ," Ziva said as Tali reached up eagerly for the dog. "Now, neshomeleh, we need to close our eyes and sleep for a few more hours." She stretched onto the bed, pantomimed sleep by putting two hands under her ear. Tali followed, but didn't close her eyes.

"She got a favorite lullaby or something?"

" _Numi Numi_ ," Ziva replied, beginning to sing in Hebrew. Tali's eyes drooped and her breathing slowed; by the second time through the song, she was asleep.

"What's the song about?" Tony asked, though he had an idea: he'd heard the word _abba_ repeated multiple times.

She shifted. "Mostly nonsense. Promises of a present."

"From a father?"

"Yes."

Tali only slept a couple more hours; then woke him by pressing cold toddler hands onto his face. His gasp of surprise woke Ziva, who rose languidly, hair cascading down her back as she shook herself awake. Tali just laughed at him. "We have a busy day," Ziva said, lifting Tali and putting her on the floor so she wouldn't fall. "I wonder if they made any progress on Kort."

"Dunno. You're going to the State Department?" he asked, trailing behind her into the bathroom.

"Yes, though I cannot imagine this will be easy, especially since her birth certificate …" She stopped, her mouth an _O._

"Was in the house?"

"Not quite. It is in my safe deposit box. But yes, it is in Israel. We will have to pick it up when we go back."

"Go back?"

"At some point before Paris I will have to. The house was destroyed, Tony. I need to process the insurance paperwork and close out a few accounts, yes. That will take several days." She wandered back into the bedroom, where Tali was playing on the floor. She scooped her up and twirled her around. "I should go visit the immigration lawyer who helped me obtain citizenship."

He'd visited her very expensive lawyer's office once, and immediately doubted that Tali's sticky fingers and happy shouts would be welcome. "I'm supposed to go to NCIS," he pointed out. "Can you take Tali?"

"No," she sighed. "I think NCIS is safer, too."

"Because nothing says safe like a kid around a lab with explosive materials and armed federal agents."

"If Kort is still a threat Tali is safer there. He cannot so easily reach any of us there."

Good point. "Good point."

She smirked. "Thank you."

"You know, I've never liked the guy."

"He has always been … as you would say, a _very_ bad dude."

"We'll get him." He thought back, years earlier, to an argument in a car about who hated Trent Kort more. It was beyond personal; it was visceral.

"I have no doubt."

They tag-teamed showering and getting ready, and fed Tali breakfast. The domestic routine felt familiar and foreign at the same time — Ziva flitting around him; Tali, so immediately known and so new, ducking his pathetic attempts to feed her yams. He wasn't wild about dropping Ziva off at a lawyer's alone, but she assured him that with her knife and his backup gun she was just fine. Tali wailed a bit when she noticed that her _ima_ was gone, but eventually calmed down. Once at NCIS, he loaded her (unwillingly) into a stroller and headed inside.

"DiNozzo, what's this?" Gibbs asked, as he and the rest of the team clustered around the screen.

"This is Tali, whose mother is at her lawyer's office, is potentially being targeted by a murderous, rogue CIA agent, and thought it might be better for her here."

Gibbs barely missed a beat. "McGee, catch him up. Take a walk."

"Anyone want to watch Tali?"

"You need time with your kid, DiNozzo," Gibbs rebutted. Tony felt a flare of irritation rise; he wanted Gibbs to get to know his daughter. "You back?"

"Never gone," Tony returned promptly. How could Gibbs possibly know he was considering heaving? He amended: "Here now."

"Take a walk," Gibbs repeated, and Tony wondered (not for the first time) if Bossman was clairvoyant.

It didn't take long for McGee to fill him in on the hunt for Kort, and when they hit the coffee cart and bench, Probie finally blurted out, "So you and Ziva, huh?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Me and Ziva. And Tali."

"So you're just going to … be together?"

"Well, yeah, McGoo. The kid makes it hard to be coy.'"

"You're not …"

"What?" he cut in.

McGee sighed. "Tony, I love Ziva. And given how complicated your … whatever is, I think I was probably her closest _friend_ there for a long time." Tim was right; he was the only one without an agenda, or expectations. He just loved her. McGee was also, Tony remembered, the only one who didn't get a real goodbye from her. "But she didn't mention a kid. For almost two years. You're not the least bit pissed?"

Tony sighed. "She had her reasons," he said half-heartedly. "I'm not going to pretend I'm thrilled with them, but … I know her. I know how she thinks. And so I get how she got … here."

"And you're OK with that?"

He looked at Tali, who was leaning into the conversation from her stroller, babbling incessantly as her eyes darted between them. He knew why Tim was asking: he, like them, realized there was no more time for games or wastefulness. He was probing in a most in-Probie-like fashion to make sure they would be OK. "I mean, yeah," he shrugged. He didn't want to say _I have to be_ ; that sounded too down and resigned when that wasn't the case, not really, not at all. "Do I wish I'd known about Tali from the start? That I'd felt her kick and been at her birth and watched her take her first steps? Of course. I'll never get that back." He sighed, struggling to articulate his feelings. "But Tali's here, now, and Ziva's here, now, and however pissed and surprised I am … It's just completely outweighed by _them_. And Ziva's going to make herself feel awful anyways." He didn't want that; he just wanted the extent of his hurt fully articulated and understood. "So what's the use of being angry? I can be angry and prove a point, or I can start making it work with Ziva. Which … I love her, Tim. I've loved her for a long time. I'm not looking to blow this chance."

"So what's next?"

"We start figuring stuff out."

"Are Ziva and Tali moving back?"

He chose his words carefully. "Eventually, I think. We talked about this last night. But Ziva has a job in Paris that's starting next month and she wants to take it."

"So you commute there, do long weekends and holidays, for what? A year?" McGee asked skeptically.

"No. She wants me to move with them," he said. "Get an apartment there, a job at Interpol or be a dad or whatever. Eat a lot of bread and send Tali to a school where they wear blue coats and yellow hats like in _Madeleine."_

If McGee were surprised he didn't show it. "You gonna do it?"

He shrugged. He knew the answer but wasn't quite ready to say it, especially to Tim. "There's a lot to work out. Part of the reason Ziva went to the lawyer's this morning."

"There's really not," Tim said, suddenly and stubbornly.

"Not what?"

"Not a lot to work out," he said, working his jaw. "It's Ziva. It's you. It seems pretty simple to me."

He nodded. "Yeah. It is."

McGee snorted. "Good luck telling Abby."

"I should probably actually _tell_ Ziva first," he admitted.

"Well, if you're leaving … Why are you here?"

He shrugged, suddenly unsure. "Unfinished business, I guess." He didn't keep a comprehensive list, but he was pretty sure Kort was the only outstanding threat to Ziva (to Tali, to their family). Though given her father's legacy, that was never a definite conclusion.

"Let's finish it, then." McGee stood. "Listen, you're more than welcome to stay and investigate. But if you want to work the details out with Ziva, go. We'll call you when we've got a bead on Kort. Promise." His phone beeped. "In fact," he said, "Gotta go. Gibbs wants to interview Jacob Scott again."

He followed McGee in but he suddenly felt useless, overwhelmed by the number of people hunting for Kort, simultaneously unable to contribute but unable to leave. Maybe he should go visit Ducky. "Abba," Tali said insistently. "Abba _l'mah'lah_."

"Fine but you're not running free," he warned her, scooping her out of the stroller. Predictably she started twisting to get down.

"I've got 'er," Gibbs said, stealthily and predictably behind him. "If you're here to investigate, go see if Abby and Ducky and Monroe have any more physical evidence to narrow the location down."

It was a foolish errand — Abby would call if there was anything — but he accepted it. "You wanna go with Grandpa Gibbs?" He asked Tali, who looked appropriately skeptical. "Don't worry, he's secretly good with kids." He handed her over; when she began to fuss, he quickly passed over Kelev. "Thanks Boss," he said. At Gibbs' upturned eyebrow, he knew Bossman had used his samurai senses to piece together his plan (hell, he'd probably done it before Tony had known it. Hell, from the second Ziva showed up alive.) and knew exactly how rapidly that name was approaching its technical terminus.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he started toward the elevator. He turned. Gibbs nodded at Tali. "You're her everything now. Remember that."

His throat dried. "Ziva's got a pretty big claim to that title."

"Not how fatherhood works. Especially with daughters," Gibbs rebutted. "Recognize that."

Not knowing was else to say, he nodded.

He punched the elevator button _down_ and was debating whether to visit Abby or Ducky first when the doors parted to reveal Ziva. "Hey," he said, astonished. "How do you keep getting on base?"

"With taxis," she replied, perfectly deadpan.

"No, I mean —"

"I know what you mean, Tony; George at the gate has probably been here since before Ducky. He recognized me." She turned at Tali's shout of _Ima._ "Gibbs," she said, slightly startled.

"Ziver," he said, letting Tali slide down his leg. Good to see you again."

"Yes," she said, "we missed you at dinner. How is Fornell?"

"Stable," he replied. "You all heading back to Tony's?"

"I was just going to get Tali and the car; there is an ongoing investigation."

"I keep telling DiNozzo, there's more important things. Go. We'll call when we find him."

They both deeply understood the futility of arguing with Gibbs, and nodded as they started to gather Tali's stuff. Before they left, Ziva crossed to him, kissed his cheek, and said "thank you."

Tali demanded to walk, so they meandered through the parking lot at her pace, Ziva pushing the stroller loaded with her things and Tony holding her hand. "How was the lawyer?"

"Good. Complicated," she admitted. "There were many factors I did not anticipate. We need to file some paperwork for Tali to issue her an American birth certificate, and more to change her name and put you on the birth certificate, in addition to everything she already needed for her visa for France, which may become complicated if we attempt to do both at once. But he did begin the paperwork, as a favor. I need to fax him her Israeli birth certificate from Tel Aciv. And then I asked about you as well and obtaining a visa without a job is, in a nut job, quite tricky."

"Nutshell," he corrected, and she made a distracted _enough_ motion. He smirked.

"He suggested we get married, but I told him that you had shown me that movie," she said, looking carefully out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction.

"I did, and no," he said simply.

"That is what I told him," she replied, her voice neutral. She swung Tali into the car and focused on buckling her into the seat.

He pressed sideways into her space. "Not because I don't want to," he said. "But because when we get married, it's because I proposed on a nice date and we dressed up and left Tali with Senior and had a little too much wine, and there will be romance, and there will be tears. Probably mine." She turned to him, wide-eyed and startled. "And not because of a discussion we had in the middle of a parking lot during a manhunt when a lawyer suggested it."

"When we get married, DiNozzo?" she questioned, eyebrow arched and chin dipped and demeanor shy and confident at the same time. She stepped closer to him.

"When," he said, leaning down to kiss her lightly.

"You are awfully confident," she hummed, and he could practically feel her body vibrate.

"After last night I like my odds," he said.

"So you will come? To Paris?" she asked seriously.

"Let's talk when we get her home," he said, because he had some stipulations.

She nodded, the moment gone. But as he drove them home, she took his hand.

They were huddled around a tiny tea kettle, pouring tea to Tali and Kelev, when she finally broached, "So. You have conditions, I presume?"

"Not … conditions," he said gently. "Just … things to say."

"Alright," she said, taking an exaggerated sip that made Tali giggle. "I am ready."

"I was serious, when I said I plan on marrying you," he said quietly, taking her hand. "I hope you know that."

"I do," she said, before quickly amending, "I mean, yes."

"This, you, Tali … this is it. I knew you were it, and I let you go, because you needed it. But things … Even if you're not in law enforcement, and I don't go back for a while, things will still get tough. They just will. We know how life breaks you when you least expect it, how life turns out completely differently than you think it will when you're not watching. And when _that_ happens … I need to know you won't run. That you won't disappear again. I commit to Paris, to this; you commit to toughing it out. To working as hard as we can at this." _For as long as we both shall live_ went unspoken, but hung heavily between them.

She set down the plastic teacup. "Well, I thought your conditions would be difficult," she said simply. "Yes. I … It has been a long three years, and I have learned a lot, and I am ready. I do not regret staying in Israel, as I told you, but now … It is so different now, isn't it? And now that is not a hard promise to make."

He leaned over the tea set to kiss her, and Tali clapped gently in the background. "So you will come?" she said as they broke apart.

"Yeah," he breathed. He couldn't believe it.

His cell phone trilled.

McGee.

There was a location; they had Kort cornered.

"You should go," Ziva said. "Go, and close this case. And this chapter." She kissed him. "Just stay safe, alright?"

"Got it," he said, blowing a raspberry on Tali's stomach as a good-bye before holstering up and bounding down the stairs.

By the time he arrived, the team had Kort surrounded, weapons drawn. "DiNozzo," he said silkily, "I am so sorry about Ziva David. She wasn't the target, as you know. She was … collateral damage."

"Ziva's my family, and she survived," he said evenly. Kort's face melted with shock. "Thought that might surprise you. She says hello, and that you have haunted us for eight years, and that she hopes you rot in prison, or in hell."

"You're right, that does surprise me," Kort said, then made one final lunge for his gun, for Gibbs, for Tony, for their family — Tony couldn't tell, didn't really care.

The bullets sprayed.

Kort slumped, then stilled.

"It's over," McGee said blankly, like he couldn't believe it.

Tony could.

Gibbs looked at him, and nodded.

It was time to go home.


	6. if they were inevitable

Hi all! I can't believe how fluffy this final chapter is, but there you go. I had about six points I wanted to end this story at (the end of the last chapter and the natural end of the episode included) but decided that this story deserved a happier ending. I hope you all like what I cooked up. Let me know what you think! Thanks so much for letting me back into NCISland to play.

* * *

vi.) if they were inevitable

 _Nothing is inevitable_ , she had told him once, but he thinks that now, the two of them have proven that wrong.

She has cheated death twice, for him.

He has crossed the ocean thrice, for her.

They have traversed time and land and head slaps and every possible statistical odd, and yet … they are still here. Still standing. Together.

To him, that is inevitability.

Telling the team had been hard. Quitting had been scary. But hard didn't mean wrong, and scary didn't mean unhappy. After Kort had been disposed of, after he'd returned safely to Tali and Ziva, after he had said _It's over_ , after Ziva had kissed him deeply, he'd clomped down the stairs to Gibbs' basement one last time. Ziva had volunteered to come with, but he had demurred. He needed to do this alone. A pair of Mason jars were already out.

Gibbs had been waiting for him.

"Two cups," he'd said, staring at the jars, remembering a long-ago Christmas promise. It had melted with the snow that year.

"You find a way to fill 'em both?" Gibbs'd asked.

"Not really," he'd sighed, grabbing the Scotch and pouring two fingers into each. He'd passed one to Gibbs. "But I know which one is more important to me now."

"You're leaving." It hadn't been a question.

"Yeah. Ziva … has a job offer in Paris. Starts in July. There's some stuff in Israel to wrap up, my condo to sell … And then we're all heading there. I think … We hope … It's a fresh start."

"Will it be?"

"Yeah," he'd said. "Listen, I know by now you're pretty clear on the fact that we were breaking your rules and you're probably pissed —"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs'd interrupted. "Every man has to live by his own code." It was a blessing of forgiveness, and Tony had taken it.

"Yours was a pretty good one, Boss," he'd smiled crookedly. "Family first; don't waste good; and never second-guess your decisions in life — I'm taking all of those. But yeah — this is what's right for us. We need to work on us a little — hell, probably a lot — and Paris will let us do that. It's fresh, you know? No bad habits to fall back on." He'd thought, for the first time in months, of Jenny Shepherd, and winced. Paris had only been a bad habit for Gibbs. "Ziva loves Paris." He loved Ziva.

"Gonna give Interpol a call?"

"Right now? No. I'm going to take six months and get to know Tali. In the new year I'll start thinking about it. But if I've got her — them — to come home to, that changes things. Today, with Kort — all I could think of was that I just wanted to get home. To them."

Gibbs' nod had been curt. "Let me know if you need me to talk to someone."

He nodded, too. "I will. Though …"

"Yeah?"

"You could — should — talk to Ziva," he had blurted out. "The two of you — this is a second chance for you two, too." He had never fully understood the dimensions of their relationship; had only known to respect it. "She's not gonna disappear again, Gibbs. She's … grounded now. You might think I'm being naive or optimistic to think so, Gibbs, but she's changed."

"I don't think you're naive," Gibbs had replied. "And I know she has. And I will. She knows where to find me."

There hadn't been much else to say, so Tony downed the rest of his Scotch and nodded. "We're going to get a place with a spare bedroom," he had said to close out. "We'd like you to come for Christmas."

The next day, after he'd turned in his resignation to Vance, Abby cornered him in the elevator, flicking the stall-switch familiarly. "First off, I am so, so upset that you all are leaving," she had started, and he'd braced himself for the Full Abby Takedown. "Especially after we just got Ziva back! And just met Tali!" She had started to cry a little. "But this is the bravest thing I've ever seen anybody do, Anthony DiNozzo, and I love that even after twenty years in law enforcement and ten years of not being able to be with Ziva, and having your heart stepped on by your family and Jeanne and Wendy — you still see the good in people and things, Tony. You still try. And I love you for it. And I'm gonna miss you."

Goodbyes and bittersweet tears with Bishop and Tim and Ducky and Palmer followed, and one evening Ziva disappeared, armed with a tray of chicken parm, to spend seven hours with Gibbs, hashing out whatever was unspoken between them. There were weeks of unending logistics, paperwork and visas and realtors and movers and insurers. Senior had volunteered to oversee stuff on the D.C. end, and he and Ziva had flown to Israel, and then he had gone on ahead to Paris to try and find them all a home, a place that was airy and bright and smelled of the future. A four-bedroom walkup in the Sixth had done the trick; when Ziva walked through with Tali in her arms for the first time, she had sighed deeply and smiled and her eyes hadn't shut up.

And then suddenly there was furniture and Senior went back to New York and Ziva started work and he and Tali set out to explore Paris and _this was life now_. They held tight and dug into the quotidian.

It was strange, to begin again, years after you thought you'd lost your chance. To feel near fifty and yet to be a father to a very young girl. To see the world through her eyes and realize that it was filled with as many balloons and chocolate-stuffed croissants and carousels as it was with murderers and thieves and terrorists and garden-variety assholes. Tali, he discovered quickly, was a genial but stubborn child, easygoing until she needed to throw a tantrum, ready to perform for a crowd and a little too smart for anyone's good. Ziva said she was much like the original Tali. Tony knew she had him wrapped around her little finger. He grew more confident around her every day. Tali quickly learned that Abba would play games all day, that he would throw her higher than Ima was comfortable with, that he was OK with her smearing ice cream in his hair as he carried her on his shoulders. Abba was silly and Abba was light and Abba's heart was unburdened, and Tony didn't know he could be this. He liked it, and his heart unclenched.

Ziva, too, was freer — inclined to dance Tali around the apartment and tickle her until she convulsed with giggles, to sneak up behind him and ghost a hand around his abdomen before carding her fingers through the short hairs that drifted around his belly button. She was the stricter parent, but open, loving, affectionate with them, warmer than she had been in years. She wore her hair in curls exclusively; in motherhood, and in Paris, she was in her element.

Initially, of course, they had distracted themselves with devilish details; there was so much paperwork and so many decisions that they could go days without talking about anything real, could practice normality as a way to achieve it. They were overly polite around one another, decorous and formal and even-toned. They walked so far around their eggshells that it was impossible to break them. The silences were imperfect and overly long; their elbows and comments did not fit together quite as synchronously as they used to. They had both grown and changed and everything was just a half-beat off.

But cracks in the veneer of discomfort emerged early: A loud argument over how to wash dishes ended in laughter and bubbles and sex; she licked his ear to wake him up as he and Tali napped on the couch; his hand found its way into hers just minutes after another stupid argument about how to get a couch up the stairs. They tried carefully to be kind to each other and to themselves, to be considerate and take deep breaths and not shut down or huff off. Before Senior had left he gifted them a weekend in Marseille, just the two of them, and she napped on his shoulder on the plane, snoring the entire time. When they arrived at the InterContinental (booked via one of Senior's associates) and stared out their balcony windows to the clear blue sea, the silence stretched between them like a rubber band for a second, until she took his hand, said, "Alone at last," and pulled him toward her on the bed.

"Milady," he said, taking the white fedora he'd been wearing and plonking it on her head. "You look good in my hat." She looked like she had the first day he'd seen her again.

"Please. I look good in most of your clothes." She reached up to cup his cheek, kiss him deeply. "Thank you. For taking this jump of faith with me."

He exhaled. He had been holding his breath for so long, steeling himself against the possibility that she would leave, take Tali, disappear. It was a debilitating block, a grab at an illusive security. He knew that any sort of realistic tether — marriage, a legal custody agreement over Tali, a new birth certificate — would do little if Ziva became convinced she needed to run. As she'd said weeks ago in D.C., the only permanence was in each other.

All he had was her promise to stay.

It was quite the leap for a guy who'd had the same boss for fourteen years and the same apartment for twelve. And more importantly, he didn't think he could take another defection, another heartbreak — there was no other side upon which he could land gently or safely. He simply wasn't strong enough, was too fragile now, for her to leave again, and he had to unlearn his reflexive fear of that, to quiet the thrumming in his ear. For what was love — or life — without risk?

Sitting in the hotel, looking at her, thrilled and curious and serious and sexy all at once, just as she'd been in another hotel an ocean away a decade ago, he was beginning to think the risk had paid off, that the thrumming was so faint that it would soon he a memory. The sorrow that had burdened him for so long was lessened. His life was bittersweet, but he was no longer drowning, no longer alone.

They spent the weekend walking around hand-in-hand, eating in cafes by the Mediterranean, picking up small things for Tali and the apartment. As they were eating dunking crusty bread into bouillabaisse in a tiny cafe, he finally asked, "So how were you going to tell me?"

"About what?" she asked, distracted.

"Tali. If the farmhouse hadn't been bombed —"

"Ah yes," she said, her voice brisk. "I had not thought of it, exactly. I had committed — July. In my head, I would call, and — I don't know, I would say I had moved to Paris, and I would ask you if you could come for a visit. And then — I pictured you saying, count to a million … and then you would come. I think I would have picked you up alone, but we would go to Tali, and I would say there is someone important for you to meet. And you would have a small moment of panic and think it was a husband, but then you would meet her. And smile. And we would be OK. That," she said, trailing a fingernail around the rim of the bowl of discarded soup, "is all I could picture."

Tali turned two and Ziva started work, Britain Brexited and Nice cried. Sometimes it was hard for Tony to sleep at night, fingers itching to help. "How do you just … Stop? And give it up?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I think it was different for me than you. You had much better intentions when you became a cop than when I became Mossad." He bit his immediate response to correct her choice of verb; he hated when she spoke of Mossad as an intrinsic part of her identity, like being Israeli or being Tali's mother. "But it just became too great."

Paris was tense and edgy in a way that he hadn't expected; the folds of the world's geopolitical tragedies pressing close in a day-to-day way that surprised him even after all of his years at NCIS. He knew that Ziva, prepared as she was after the years of harrowingly casual violence and her family's demise and her work with refugees, was also carefully wary: she was relieved when Tali's American passport (last name: DiNozzo) came in a studiously nondescript envelope marked Do Not Bend and insisted that they speak English in public and wrapped his loud Americanness around them all as a security blanket. He took a Hebrew conversational class twice a week at a synagogue and picked up her habit of scanning carefully before he walked into a room.

But there is joy in their family, in Tali, in themselves. Shadows do not lurk around every corner of their joined psyche. It is work, but the best kind of work — sweaty hard labor that produces tangible results. He and Tali spend the fall cavorting in parks and visiting museums and stuffing themselves with baguettes and secrets from Ima. She cries for him instead of Ziva for the first time in September and a loop closes. "You have always been the best partner, Tony," Ziva says sleepily as he slides back into bed, "but I think you should know you are also the best father, as well." She falls asleep again she she kisses the hollow where his neck meets his clavicle. He visits a jeweler to browse, but ends up purchasing a vintage diamond and ruby ring that is ornate but simple, exactly like Ziva. The diamond is of tremendous quality, which will please the Israeli; the rubies remind him of Tali's July birth. They will match the necklace he had already given her.

They're out for an afternoon street carnival a kilometer or so from their apartment a few days later when Tali starts whining for a snack. Eager to get out of the crowds, Ziva navigates them to a nearby cafe for eclairs and coffee and a milk for Tali. She handles the ordering, as always, as he and Tali practice French, Hebrew, and English color names with the macaroons. He hears the cashier say something about _mari et fille,_ and Ziva respond _fiancé et fille._ His ears prickle. Ziva grabs the two china cups of coffee and he takes the milk and snack and Tali runs outside first to a tiny wicker table.

"What were you and the cashier talking about?" he asks.

Ziva reddens but remains calm. "She thought you and Tali were adorable. I said thank you."

"She said your husband and daughter were adorable," he corrects. His French has been improving rapidly, though he knows he will never be able to speak the language with anything resembling a clean accent.

"Yes. And I corrected her."

"By calling me your fiancé."

"Well," she says, eyes darting to Tali for a distraction. The kid is behaving perfectly, for once, eating the raspberries and almonds off her pastry neatly, her eyes wide and happy. "It is true, is it not? You said you were going to marry me. And I think I made it clear with my tears and the enthusiastic sex that night I would accept. So technically that is true. You are the man I plan to marry."

"Yes, but," he starts. The romance. The wine. The flowers. "I haven't had the chance to ask."

"Well," she sighs, pushing a lock of Tali's curls behind her. "That is, as they say, on you." She glances around. "Have we been here before? It looks familiar."

She is fishing for a distraction, he knows, but there was an odd tone to her voice that signaled the query was genuine. He scans. "I don't think so—" he starts, because it's a street they don't visit frequently. Then — "Wait. Nora. This was the cafe we had breakfast in when we were here for the day to pick up the witness." It had also been the first time they'd slept together since Rivkin, since Somalia. The night had been nearly cliche: A mistake in the reservation, a single bed, a nightmare for Ziva, a conversation, then a plea that they have sex, because she was worried she would never be able to feel comfortable with sex again, after the camp, wanted to remember the good and trusted him more than anyone. He had thought they were going to get back together, but they had not — the harsh light of DC, their masochistic tendencies, and their inability to be honest with themselves and each other, had interrupted again.

"You are right," she says, her voice wondrous. "That was what — six years ago?"

"Yeah," he affirms.

"How far we have come," she remarks, wiping some chocolate from Tali's chin before dragging the back of her finger across the apple of her cheekbone.

"How far _you've_ come," he says, because this woman is a far cry from the hardened, gimlet-eyed survivor he had scooted around with that day.

"You as well, Tony," she replies. "Do not sell yourself short."

One hand falls to hers, but the other covers the cube in his coat pocket. It's incredibly risky, he knows, toting it around, but he'd been doing it out of paranoia since he and Tali had picked it up on Thursday.

He pulls it out.

Ziva's mouth falls open. She goes pale. "Ziva David —" he winds up.

"Yes. I already told you yes," she says. Tali makes a play for the box, delighting in the sparkliness, and he grabs it quickly, flips the lid open. Ziva's eyes fill with tears.

"We've watched enough movies together that you know that the guy needs to make a speech," he chides, leaning toward with his elbow on his knee. It'll have to do. "Anyways. It's been ten years. Four continents. A kid. And every day I learn more things about you, and become a better person because of you. I should've asked you this nine years ago when I realized that you had ninja-crept into my heart and taken up residence, and I _definitely_ should have asked the last time we were at this cafe, because I'm pretty sure that I knew then any other outcome was out of the question. I know you don't believe in inevitability, but I'm grateful that the universe gave us the sixty-two chances it did to work this out. I intend to keep trying to work it out for the rest of my life. I want to marry you not because it's something permanent, but because life _is_ going to change, and you're the partner I want to change with. So, Ziva David. Will you marry me?"

She's full on happy-crying now, a sight he has not seen for a long time. She leans forward to kiss him deeply, before pulling back, speaking in a thick voice. "Yes. I said that six months ago and two minutes ago. You are my partner, Tony. The reason I do not think we are inevitable is because I do not think that acknowledges how hard we have worked, and I very much think that effort should be recognized. But if anything is inevitable — and I still doubt that very much — it is this."

He kisses her again before pulling back. "Hear that Tali? Abba and Ima are getting married."

"Married?" She asks. "Who married?"

"She is too young, Tony," Ziva says. "She will never remember a time this is untrue." The thought makes him smile.

They debate getting married immediately, then find out about the total tonnage of paperwork doing so will dump on them. Given how long it will take, he suggests they give her aunts, Schmeil, his dad, and the team notice and a chance to make it out. They skype with the announcement that they'll be getting married on New Year's Eve and Ziva wins five euros from him because she predicts that yes, Gibbs will tear up.

He is still on Daddy-duty and takes over most of the details, faxes birth certificates and proofs of residency and blood tests where they need to go. In November he gets a call from a friend at DHS who says that Gibbs suggested they chat, and he realizes that while he doesn't have the stomach for true fieldwork anymore, he does want to get back to law enforcement. Ziva is unsurprised and supportive, provided he can stay mostly out of the fray. When his dad comes for a month starting at Thanksgiving, Tony informs him that he'll be the DHS deputy director for terrorism at the embassy starting in mid-January, and Senior nods and says, "I guess you'll need me to stick around to watch Tali, then." He is grateful, and accepts Senior's offer at face value.

Sometimes, you have to move on from resentments, and step into the light, bright and scary as it is. Ziva has taught him that. But it certainly hurts less than inflicting and infecting yourself with old wounds.

Hanukkah falls on Christmas Eve this year, and the aunts and Schmeil arrive on the twentieth to prepare for celebrations. He met the aunts in Israel and is especially pleased to see Nettie again — she pats his cheek and calls him a _mensch_ so often he throws a smirk at Ziva, who sticks a tongue out in response. The team — Gibbs and Abby and McGee and Delilah and Abby and Palmer and Breena and Ducky and hell, he had even invited Bishop — is due to arrive after noon on the 24th (Orli will be arriving on the 30th for his wedding, and the thought of Orli Elbaz attending his wedding to Ziva makes his head spin).

Nettie and Senior kidnap Tali after breakfast that morning, ostensibly so Tony and Ziva can prepare for the large dinner they're hosting but really because they adore her, and he is shaving in his jeans in the bathroom when Ziva comes in and shuts the toilet seat before sitting on it gingerly. "So, Tony," she says, seriously and nervously, "before we marry, I realize there is one thing we have not discussed and I think we need to."

He taps the razor against the sink. "What is it, Zi? I told you when this started, I come with a kid," he jokes. "Single dad you snared, here."

"That is it, actually," she bites her lip. "Do you — what are your thoughts on more children?"

He scrapes the razor over his neck. "Positive," he says. Truthfully, he has long assumed Ziva is one-and-done with Tali. It has suited him fine, but he would never be opposed to more. If the current model of David-DiNozzo gene-blending is anything to go by, the world needs them to have as many children as possible, because Tali is the epitome of joy.

"Really?" She is honestly surprised.

"Why not?" He shrugs. "We're a great team. Tali is amazing and secure and loved. Why not, you know?" He looks at her sideways.

"Good," she half-laughs, with a heavy dose of relieved sigh. "Because I think I am pregnant."

"Really?" He stops. He honest-to-God hadn't been expecting that.

"Yes. I was supposed to get my period last week and I have not. I took two tests, and they agreed with my assumption."

"How?" They hadn't been not-trying.

She shrugs. "Given that this is our second unplanned pregnancy, either you are exceptionally virile or I am exceptionally fertile. Do not smirk," she smirks. "How do you feel? Honestly?"

"I wish we'd gotten married before I knocked you up again, but great. Really great, actually. You?"

"I — wonderful," she says, struggling before landing on the simplest explanation. "Truly. I think it is early, about five weeks, so we cannot tell people yet … But I am very excited." "

"Got it," he breathes, moving to kiss her. "When do you think …."

"Late August, maybe early September, I imagine. Tali will be three. I think she will be excited too."

"I think she'll be _bossy_ ," he says, and she laughs in agreement, nuzzling his nose again before moving her hands to the snap of his jeans.

The team arrives a few hours later to a mostly-clean apartment (the celebration sex pushed their schedule back a bit), with boisterous loving exclamations from Abby and manly backslaps from McGee and a characteristically long hug from Gibbs to Ziva.

"This apartment is wonderful," Abby enthuses. They'll be staying at a hotel a few blocks away, of course, but Tony doubts they'll do anything but sleep there. "Paris is fantastic. Tali is _so_ cute. Are you guys, like, beyond head-explodingly happy here?"

He looks at Ziva, and they exchange a smile full of secrets — of their latest and biggest, of course, and of Ziva's plan to ask Gibbs to walk her down the aisle. But one of many others too: memories of taking Tali for ice cream and of painting the apartment on hot August nights and of good-natured bickering over whether to watch _Casablanca_ or _The Sound of Music_ again; the knowledge of her skin slick on sheets as she comes to a sweaty quaking orgasm and her hand in his when they trip down sidewalks and conversations in cars and under covers and undercover; truths of the hardness and softness of parenting and annotated lists of Tali's likes and dislikes and developmental milestones. Years of partnership, months of separation, decades of growth behind and in front of them — things shared only before the two of them. He catches Gibbs' eye, and he knows the samurai senses have kicked in again, or that he's smelled it on Ziva — at any rate, he knows she's pregnant again.

Gibbs smiles. Tony turns to Abby. "Yeah. We are." It is a term he has never believed in, and a scale he has never measured himself against, but he is an investigator and he is trained to seek unvarnished truths.

And the truths are these: Ziva is alive. He is alive. They are here, with Tali and the team and their families, and _they_ are a family. Things are not necessarily easy, but he knows now how to separate easiness from happiness. And yes, they are head-explodingly happy.

It is more than enough.


End file.
